


The World is Frickin' Awful (And We're Never Gonna Make it to L.A.)

by exalteddm



Series: Just Beyond the Far Horizon (Lies a Waiting World Unknown) [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Anna/Kristoff - Freeform, Background Elsa/honeymaren, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, but instead you get mattias who knows jack shit about theater, he wants to help though he just doesn't know how, honestly this could be an elsamaren theater au if it was written from one of their povs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exalteddm/pseuds/exalteddm
Summary: It’s three A.M. on a Wednesday, and the girl in 147B is belting Broadway solos again. Mattias wraps his pillow around his head and groans.“I am an R.A.,” he tells himself firmly, “not a babysitter. I am not the fun police. I amnotthe fun police.” But goddammit, they have quiet hours for a reason, and Elsa van Arendelle istechnicallyhis responsibility. Technically.-In which Elsa has (somewhat prematurely) given up on her dreams of Broadway stardom, Anna is an overbearing but well-meaning little sister, and Mattias just wants to know how he can help without overstepping his bounds. AU, one-shot.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney), Mattias & Anna (Disney), Mattias & Elsa (Disney)
Series: Just Beyond the Far Horizon (Lies a Waiting World Unknown) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030083
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	The World is Frickin' Awful (And We're Never Gonna Make it to L.A.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rob Rokicki's "Lost!", from The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical

It’s three A.M. on a Wednesday, and the girl in 147B is belting Broadway solos again. Mattias wraps his pillow around his head and groans.

“I am an R.A.,” he tells himself firmly, “not a babysitter. I am not the fun police. I am _not_ the fun police.” But goddammit, they have quiet hours for a reason, and Elsa van Arendelle is _technically_ his responsibility. Technically.

Mattias shoves his blanket away, wincing from the cold, and wraps a sweater around himself before venturing out into the hallway. It’s not brightly lit—who is he kidding, there’s no way the North College administration is going to shell out for something as useful as hallway lights—but he’s not going to trip over anything and die out here. He hopes.

He makes his way down the hall to 147B, taking special care to stamp his feet against the ground as loudly as possible. Unfortunately, it still doesn’t mask the voice floating through the doorframe.

“ _Well, if that’s love—it comes at much too high a co—”_

Mattias knocks, as obnoxiously as he can, and her voice cuts off. Elsa’s a good singer, he can’t deny that—personally, he thinks her ambitions of reaching Broadway fame are probably less far-fetched than she seems to think—but honestly, there’s a time and a place.

And right now, at three in the goddamn morning, is not either of those things.

Elsa doesn’t answer her door, so Mattias knocks again for good measure. “Elsa?” he says, loud enough that he knows anyone in the room has to have heard him. He’s gotten _very_ good at judging what kinds of sounds reach through the walls in his three years here. “Elsa?”

No response.

Mattias sighs and gives up, trudging back to his own room, but at least she’s not singing anymore. Maybe this entire wing of the building can get a decent night’s sleep for once, he thinks bitterly—though he knows he’s being a bit harsh. This doesn’t happen _that_ often, after all. Once a month, at most, at least for the three months they’ve been here so far. He’s certainly seen (and heard) worse, during his time as an R.A.

He makes sure to hang his jacket up on the coat-peg before retiring once again to his bed, this time blissfully unaware of any sounds coming from outside his room. If she has started singing again, at least it’s quieter now.

He falls asleep quickly, and his dreams are full of childhood church services and awfully-harmonized sorry excuses for choirs.

* * *

There’s a note underneath his door when Mattias wakes up in the morning—at five past eight, since his first class this semester isn’t until nine—written on a folded piece of what appears to be old sheet music. _Sorry_ , the note reads, written in perfect cursive that Mattias sort of envies (or would, he tells himself, if cursive weren’t a marginally useless sort of skill).

It’s a nice gesture, regardless. Mattias has dealt with enough students to know that most of them don’t treat their R.A.s with nearly as much respect as they should (which is to say, the literal bare minimum of respect, ever), and a handwritten apology is a much more relaxing start to his morning than a screaming tirade about the draining anonymity of dorm life and the individual’s right to constant self-expression.

Not that he feels like someone like Elsa is capable of that sort of shouting. But he’s met people who are, and he’s also learned to expect the unexpected when it comes to college freshmen. He wonders every now and then if he was ever quite so . . . unpredictable.

Yelena, the other Floor 1 R.A., joins him for a late breakfast in the dining hall per Thursday morning tradition. He must be a little out of it, he thinks, because he doesn’t even notice her approach until the _thunk_ of a bowl of oatmeal on the table nearly jolts him out of his seat.

“What—oh, hi,” he says, looking up to see her sighing at him. “Um. Morning.”

“Are you always so easily startled?” she asks as she slides into the chair across from him. “Or are you particularly susceptible today?” Her oatmeal smells of crisp apples and cinnamon, and for a moment Mattias almost regrets his choice of omelette.

“Just had a long night,” he says, taking a mournful bite of his eggs. “The girl in 147 was singing again, woke me up at some godforsaken hour in the morning.” Yelena gives him a confused look, so he adds, “You know, Elsa? Tall, sort of quiet, wears way more light blue than is usually acceptable in fashion?”

“Nope, not ringing a bell.” Yelena shakes her head, then frowns. “Oh, _that_ Elsa.”

“Yeah,” Mattias shrugs. Honestly, he’s a little surprised that Yelena wasn’t also awoken last night—they only live on opposite sides of the hallway, after all, and Elsa was probably singing loud enough to wake the dead. “Anyway, yes. Long night.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Yelena says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s part of the job, I suppose,” he shrugs. “And at least we get paid for it.”

Yelena snorts. “Not nearly enough, in my opinion. We should charge them a contractor’s fee every time we have to get up in the middle of the night to deal with some problem or another.”

“You’re telling me.” Mattias has to work to suppress a yawn as he speaks. “Ugh. I think I may have to head back to my room and see if I can squeeze in a nap before class.” It’s just a wishful fancy, though, because of course he doesn’t have time—in fact, he has class in fifteen minutes, which means he should probably be leaving the dining hall right about now.

Mattias shoves the rest of his omelette into his mouth and sighs. He can probably make it if he runs.

* * *

Six hours later, before he leaves the residence hall for dinner, Mattias finds himself in front of the door to 147B with a short handwritten list up his sleeve. Glancing back and forth to make sure no one is watching, he kneels in front of the door and quickly slides the paper through the crack.

It is, of course, just his luck that the door flies open just as he’s straightening up again.

He has just enough time to brace himself for the impact, but it nearly knocks him off his feet anyway. Mattias grunts in pain and stumbles backward, a little shocked at the strength of whoever’s just flung the door open so violently, and he hears a yelp of surprise from the other side.

“Who—Mattias?” Elsa’s head peers around the side of the door, joined by another slightly below it. The newcomer bears a striking resemblance to Elsa, aside from the fact that her hair is bright reddish-brown in contrast to Elsa’s platinum blonde. She looks . . . familiar, for some reason. “Are you all right?” Elsa asks.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Mattias takes a moment to steady himself against the wall. “Sorry about that. I was just responding to your note from this morning.” He gestures vaguely toward the floor.

Elsa looks down at her feet and spots his note, seemingly for the first time. She flushes a bright pink and clears her throat as she kneels to pick it up. “Ah—well—yes,” she says. She clears her throat again. “Um, sorry again, by the way. I didn’t mean to bother anyone.”

“It’s no big deal,” Mattias replies, waving her off. He notices the other girl glancing back and forth between them, her brow furrowed in confusion, and decides to steer this conversation down a slightly less awkward path. “So who’s this, then?” he asks. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Oh!” Elsa brightens considerably and gestures to her companion. “This is my sister, Anna. She goes to the high school across town—” at that, she narrows her eyes and turns to Anna “—or she’s supposed to be, anyway.” Anna gives her a bright smile, and Elsa just rolls her eyes. “Anna, this is my R.A., Mattias.”

“Mattias,” Anna muses, at the same time Mattias says, “Anderson High? That’s the one I went to, back in the day.”

“Really? So did I.” Elsa slides the note into the back pocket of her jeans without reading it, though Mattias hopes that’s only because she plans to later. “I’m surprised we didn’t realize that before.”

Mattias shrugs. “Well, it isn’t as if going to college in the same town we grew up in is something to brag about,” he says. They’ve got students here from much more interesting places, after all. From all over the world, really.

“Fair enough,” Elsa replies, but Mattias is a little distracted by the way Anna is still staring at him intently. It’s almost enough to unnerve him.

He’s about to ask her about it when her face breaks into a grin, and she cries, “Aha! I knew I remembered you from somewhere!”

“Excuse me?” he says, frowning.

“You were my summer camp counselor once,” she exclaims, still grinning. “A long time ago, when I was—ten, maybe? Nine? But I remember you!”

And—now that she mentions it, that does ring a bell. “Summer by the Lakeshore?” he says. (Of all the corny names . . .) “The one just outside town?”

He’d volunteered as a counselor there for exactly one summer, when he’d been a fifteen-year-old in search of basically any job that would pay him money, and he’d hated almost every moment of it. Even back then, herding small children was not Mattias’s idea of a good time.

Herding college students, as he’s come to realize, is only slightly better.

“Yeah! That’s the one!” Anna steps out from behind the door and beams at him. “Wow, I can’t believe I remembered that. I never thought I’d recognize _anyone_ from camp after so long.”

Elsa rolls her eyes at the two of them, but there’s a good-natured tilt to her smile. “Well,” she says, “I’m sure you two have many things that you could catch up on, but I need to eat dinner. And,” she adds, turning to Anna, “you need to get back to home. I’m sure Pabbie has something nice and warm waiting for you.”

Anna sighs, clutching her cardigan closer around her shoulders. “I know,” she mutters. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You didn’t sound very good last night.”

It seems like the sort of moment that should be left private, so Mattias takes a few steps away from the door and does his best to block out the sisters’ conversation. The two exchange a few more words, and then Anna is dashing down the corridor toward the back door of the residence hall as Elsa steps out of her room and carefully closes the door behind her.

“Sorry about that,” Elsa says quietly. She fiddles with a ring on her finger as she speaks. “She means well, really, but she can be a little—overbearing, sometimes.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mattias shrugs. He doesn’t remember much of Anna, to be honest—it’s been six years, and he probably dealt with hundreds of campers over the course of the summer. He barely remembers any of them. Though it’s nice to know that he made somewhat of a good impression.

“You said you needed dinner,” he says to Elsa, who’s still standing awkwardly half-out of her doorway. “I was just on my way to the dining hall, too, if you’d care to join me?”

Elsa’s eyes widen briefly, but she does such a good job of concealing it that he wonders for a moment if he’s imagined it. “Well, sure,” she says, her voice measured. “Why not?”

“You certainly don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Mattias says hastily. “Don’t feel obligated or anything.”

“No, that’s all right.” She gives a small shake of her head and jams her hands into her coat pockets. “I was just . . . surprised, is all. I’d be happy to join you.”

“If you’re sure,” he says. Elsa nods, so he just shrugs and says, “Off we go, then.” He lets Elsa lead the way to the dining hall, though not before she looks back in the direction that Anna ran off in, the ghost of a frown on her face.

“She’ll be fine,” he assures her, making her jump slightly.

“Of course.” Elsa nods firmly as she starts down the hall. “Of course she will be.”

* * *

Mattias learns far more about Elsa in the next few hours than he ever thought he would know, since it turns out that she’s a surprisingly good conversationalist once she starts to get comfortable talking. Anna is a favorite topic of hers, and it seems that the two sisters have no shortage of stories regarding their frequent camping trips in the mountains north of town, but about the other aspects of her life she’s unusually cagey. Mattias would prefer to avoid embarrassing her further by bringing up the topic of singing before she does, so he tries to ask about other things instead.

“So this ‘Grand Pabbie’, he’s your . . . grandfather, or something?” Mattias asks at one point. It’s the second time she’s mentioned the name tonight, and Mattias thinks he heard it during her conversation with Anna earlier too.

“Well, in title I suppose he’s our butler,” Elsa says with a frown. “Or he was, anyway—now I’m not so sure. He takes care of us, though, and he’s Anna’s legal guardian until she turns eighteen.”

And, well. Trust him, Mattias has heard about some _weird_ family circumstances in his time here, but this one has to take the cake. Who even employs a butler in this day and age, much less one who’s also the legal guardian of their children? It’s the twenty-first century, for heavens’ sake.

“But your parents,” he says slowly. “They’re all right with this? Where do they come in?”

Almost instantly, the expression vanishes off of Elsa’s face, leaving it unreadable. “They don’t,” she says, no longer looking at him but at a point somewhere over his shoulder instead. “They’re . . .” she trails off, shaking her head. “Never mind.”

“Ah,” Mattias says. “Uncomfortable topic, then. My apologies.”

“It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.”

Elsa picks at her dining-hall fettuccine for a few minutes, biting her lip, and then she lays her fork down carefully and rises from her chair. “I think I’ll head back to my room now,” she says. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“No, of course, go ahead.” Mattias swallows, but he can’t find anything helpful to say. He feels like he’s walked halfway out onto a frozen lake and is only now realizing that the ice has been cracking behind him. “You—I’m sure they could find you a box for your food, if you think you might be hungry later?”

“I’ll be all right,” Elsa says quickly, slinging her purse over her shoulder and pushing in her chair. “But thank you anyway.” She hurries out of the dining hall into the night, leaving Mattias alone to finish off his over-baked chicken. He cuts off another slice and forces it down with a mouthful of water—honestly, it’s dry enough that it’s probably more _dehydrated_ than _baked_ —and tries to think back on where, exactly, their conversation started to go wrong.

* * *

He doesn’t see Elsa for a while after that, but to be honest, he’s far too occupied by other things to take much notice of it. Midterms, which before last week had barely been a blip on the horizon, have hit in full force, leaving him precious little time away from his books and his study corner in the library. Hell, he barely remembers the last time he managed to get more than four consecutive hours of sleep.

He’s stumbling through the halls of the dormitory on the Friday after his last exam, intent on collapsing into bed and hibernating for the foreseeable future, when he hears the sound of raucous, off-key singing coming from the 1A common room.

It’s intriguing, at the very least, so he decides sleep can wait a few moments while he investigates.

Mattias opens the door to the room to find a full-blown karaoke setup in full swing. About a quarter of Floor 1 is packed into the common room, chatting and laughing and egging each other on, and Yelena is sitting in the corner, looking far too pleased with herself.

“So what’s this all about?” he asks her, once he’s gotten close enough that he doesn’t have to shout. “Somebody throwing a party or something?”

“Actually, I am,” Yelena replies with a prim smile. “I thought that the floor could use some de-stressing activities after midterms, and now here we are.”

Mattias glances around the room appreciatively. It looks like everyone here is having fun (or almost everyone, anyway), which has to be a first for an R.A.-sponsored event. A good portion of that fun is no doubt due to the joy of watching their peers fail spectacularly at karaoke, but hey, who is he to judge?

A flash of red hair catches his eye from across the room, and Mattias recognizes Anna’s face immediately. _What is she doing here?_ he wonders, frowning.

Taking his leave of Yelena, Mattias pushes his way through the crowd toward her. Anna notices his approach and waves, scooting over to make room for him on the windowsill. She’s holding a Polaroid camera in her lap, balancing it precariously on one leg.

“Hi, Mattias!” she says as he sits. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Elsa is, would you?”

“Can’t say I do,” he shrugs. “I would have thought I’d find her here, given her aptitude for singing and all, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t be caught dead around any of this.” Anna makes a gesture with her head toward the karaoke machine, where one of the boys from 130A is butchering “Hotel California” and displaying exactly zero shame. “That, for one thing,” Anna says. “Plus it’s just too many people.”

Frowning, Mattias turns to look at her. “So what are you doing here, then?”

“Waiting for her to respond to my texts,” she replies breezily, pulling out her phone and glancing at the lock screen. “She wasn’t in her room when I showed up, but your partner found me loitering outside her door and inviting me here.”

“My—oh, you mean Yelena.” Mattias shrugs. “She—”

“Yelena! That was her name!” Anna nods to herself, repeating it under her breath, as her phone vibrates in her hands. She glances down at it and smiles.

“Elsa, I presume?” Mattias says, but she’s too focused on whoever’s messaging her to notice. She starts typing out a reply, humming along with the karaoke singer as she does so.

“ _Hmm hm hmm hmm hm hm . . . of our own device . . ._ ” she mutters to herself, and then looks up. “Elsa’s in the church,” she says. “Well, cathedral. Thing. Whatever you guys call it here. Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta go!” And then she’s off the windowsill and weaving her way through the room, pausing only to say a quick good-bye to Yelena near the door. Mattias grins ruefully and heads back across the room to join his ‘partner’.

“So I see you’ve met Anna,” he says, nodding at the figure retreating down the hall. He has a pretty good idea of why Elsa is at the cathedral—he thinks, at least—but he doesn’t want to interrupt. Some other time, maybe.

“Yes, I have indeed,” Yelena replies with a nod. “She’s really quite sweet—seemed a little lost when I talked to her, but she cheered up quickly.”

“She’s a good kid,” Mattias agrees. “Wish I had a sister who cared about me that much.”

“Do you have any siblings at all, Mattias?” Yelena asks, and he realizes with a start that the two of them haven’t ever spoken about this sort of thing. They haven’t exactly had the time, between classes and R.A. duties and midnight student-herding that really _should_ fall under R.A. duties even if they don’t get paid for it.

“Nope, none.” He shrugs. “Do you?”

“Two, actually. A brother and a sister.” She pauses for a moment, and Mattias is about to ask her more about them, but he’s interrupted by an ear-piercing squeal of static from the direction of the karaoke machine. He claps his hands over his ears and yells, and out of the corner of his eye he can see a good dozen students do the same.

“Sorry!” yells the girl holding the microphone, causing another static blast to echo through the room. “Sorry,” she says again, a little quieter this time.

Judging that it’s safe to remove his hands from his ears, Mattias sighs and turns to Yelena. “I suppose we really should be supervising them, huh?”

“We probably should be,” she agrees. “Of course, we could push that off for a few minutes if one of us took up that microphone . . .”

It takes him a moment to realize what she’s insinuating, but he shakes his head immediately. “No,” he says, “absolutely not. I wasn’t built for singing.”

“Have it your way, then,” she shrugs. “But even if you don’t, I’m going to have a go at a song or two before the night is over.”

“Be my guest,” Mattias replies, “as long as you don’t try and drag me into it.”

(She tries anyway, and even if she fails, he doesn’t think either of them really minds.)

* * *

By the time he reaches his room again that night, he’s already so deep in thought that he nearly misses the folded sheet of paper sitting just behind his door as he steps into his room. Mattias frowns. There’s only one person who’s sent him notes like this before, but there’s no reason for her to be . . .

He turns it over in his hand and notes the sheet music on the outside. It’s Elsa, no doubt. He drags the door shut behind him, unfolds the note, and sits down on his bed to read it.

_Thanks for your suggestions for practice locations,_ the note reads, and Mattias realizes that it must be a response to the one he gave her. So she did end up reading it. He glances further down, noticing for the first time the presence of a second paper—a photograph, taken on a Polaroid. In it, the late evening sun streams through the stained-glass cathedral windows and illuminates the pews with an almost unearthly light. 

If he’s being honest, it’s absolutely breathtaking.

_Anna took some pictures while she was here, and she insisted that I deliver this one to you. We both hope you like it._

And he does, indeed. He’ll have to tell her, the next time he sees her—or maybe he’ll just write another note. But for now, he affixes the photograph to the bulletin board on his wall and moves to get ready for bed. He’s had a very long week, and unfortunately, things are only going to get harder from here.

The end of the semester, he thinks as he pulls his blanket up and closes his eyes, can’t possibly come soon enough.

* * *

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing fine here,” Mattias says with a nod, sighing internally as he notes the glazed-over look in Francis’s eyes. If there really were any problems, Mattias doubts he would be hearing about them. But he’s required by the school to do this, so— “Remember,” he says, “if anything comes up, Yelena and I are always here to talk.”

Francis nods wordlessly, so Mattias just shrugs and punches an ‘X’ into the spreadsheet next to Francis’s name, the second to last in the column labeled “Check-Ins - Pre Thanksgiving”. “You’re free to go,” he says, and Francis practically bolts out of the student center, leaving Mattias sitting at the table alone once again.

Glancing down at the clock on his laptop screen—11:48 AM, he notes—Mattias decides that he probably has time to grab a coffee before his last check-in. He shuts his computer and slides it into his bag, then heads out of the student center to the building across the quad.

Having an on-campus Starbucks is expensive, sure, but it’s also incredibly convenient at moments like this. He puts in his order with the barista (a nitro cold brew, because he can already tell that he’s going to have a lot of work to do this afternoon) and settles onto one of the stools next to the window to wait. As he glances around the Starbucks, he spots several of his students scattered around the shop—including Elsa, who’s tucked into the back corner booth and poring over a notebook with a look of intense irritation on her face.

As luck would have it, he realizes, she’s his last check-in for this cycle.

By the time the barista calls Mattias’s name, it’s 11:59, and Elsa shows no signs of moving from her corner. For most students, Mattias wouldn’t risk bothering them and just reschedule the check-in. But he and Elsa are friends—well, sort of friends, or at least the closest to friends that an R.A. and their students can be. Coffee in hand, he makes his way over to her table.

Elsa doesn’t notice his approach, so rather than risk standing around awkwardly, he shifts his coffee to his other hand and waves. “Hey there,” he says. “You doing all right?”

Elsa jolts, looking up at him, and an expression of panic crosses her face. “Mattias!” she says, fumbling her notebook. “Shoot, I’m sorry—is it past noon already?”

“Not yet,” Mattias assures her, glancing at his watch. “We’re still about a minute out. But you looked pretty absorbed in your work over here, I wasn’t sure if you were planning on moving.”

“You’re probably right,” Elsa sighs. “I must have lost track of time. This discrete math class is . . . probably one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.”

Mattias is pretty sure he hasn’t taken discrete mathematics, but he can still commiserate about difficult classes. “Sorry to hear that,” he says softly. “If you’re too busy right now, we can always reschedule the check-in—”

“No, it’s all right, I could use the break.” Elsa pushes her laptop and notebooks to the side, gesturing at the seat opposite her. “Feel free to sit—or we can move to the student center, if you’re required to hold the check-ins there or something.”

“Here works for me,” Mattias says, sliding into the booth and setting his coffee down on the table. “Technically, they are supposed to be in the student center, but Admin doesn’t have to know.”

Elsa nods. “Bureaucracy at its finest,” she sighs. “But you’re not here to listen to me complain about nonsensical campus policies, are you?”

That draws a laugh out of him. “Well,” he says, before he can stop himself, “it would certainly be a change of pace from all of the ‘nothing to say’s ‘I’m doing fine’s.” Honestly, he has no idea why the administration even requires check-ins after October.

She chuckles ruefully, taking an experimental sip of the drink sitting in front of her. Grimacing, she pushes it aside. “Surely they aren’t all that bad?” she asks.

“Well, there are some people who say more,” Mattias admits. “Not many, though. North College students aren’t exactly the talkative type.”

Elsa just nods, stirring her drink absently and staring into the air above his shoulder. “North wasn’t my first choice for college, actually,” she says after a moment. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice here. Just . . . not at all where I thought I would end up.”

“Same here, I guess,” Mattias shrugs. “Very few people I’ve known have gotten into their dream schools, now that I think about it.”

“Ah. Well.” Elsa’s lips have set into a hard line, and she’s abandoned uselessly stirring her drink in favor of picking at her braid instead. “I did get into mine, actually. Got offered a—” she stops. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter anyway. Not anymore.”

Mattias takes a slow sip of his coffee, trying to come up with the best way to respond without seeming insensitive. “Feel free to not answer this question,” he says finally, “but, I guess—why did you decide not to go?”

“Same reason Grand Pabbie’s still taking care of the house and cooking dinner, I suppose.” She’s still refusing to look directly at him, but Mattias has given up trying to hold her gaze. “I looked at that acceptance letter, at what they were offering me, and I . . . I was so happy, I felt so _free_.” Shaking her head, she gives a deep sigh before continuing. “But then I thought about Anna, and the thought of leaving her alone in that giant mansion—” She breaks off and grimaces. “I never really expected to get in anyway. And at least here, I’m close enough to keep an eye on her.”

Whatever suspicions Mattias has had about their parents, Elsa has basically just confirmed them. For the first time in his life, he genuinely has no idea what to say—there’s no combination of words he knows that can help her, or even begin to take the edge off of what she must be feeling.

No wonder she spends her nights singing her heart out until her voice is raw.

“Anyways,” Elsa says shakily, “you, um, probably didn’t come here to listen to some freshman’s sob story. Sorry for . . . unloading onto you like that.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Mattias says automatically. It’s not technically his job to listen, per se, but it’s something that he feels ought to be—though this seems more like the kind of thing she should be talking about with someone who has a psychiatry license of some sort. It’s way over his head, for sure.

He almost tells her as much, but right at this moment, telling her that she should probably be seeing a medical professional feels like it would be a little bit insensitive. But he will bring it up in the future, because it very much sounds like she’s not okay.

“I—I don’t really know what to say,” he says finally, “but if there’s anything I can—”

“That’s all right,” Elsa says, but her smile is forced, and he can tell. “I think I’d just like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh—yes, of course.” Mattias rises hastily, sliding out of the booth. “I’ll—uh, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks,” she says, without much warmth, and Mattias departs the coffee shop at what he hopes is a normal pace, his laptop under his arm. He’s halfway across campus before he realizes that he left his coffee at her table, but he decides that it’s probably best to simply write it off as a loss.

He marks an ‘X’ next to Elsa’s name in the check-in spreadsheet and forwards it to his supervisor, but with every move he makes, he feels like there’s something more that he really ought to be able to do.

* * *

“So,” Yelena says, dropping into the seat across from him, “is there a reason that I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in the past two weeks? You’re not planning a surprise karaoke party of your own, are you?”

Mattias rolls his eyes in greeting. “Only you would assume something nefarious like that,” he says, but his heart isn’t in it.

He hasn’t seen Elsa in three days—not since her disastrous check-in with him on Sunday. And with the dorms emptying out this afternoon for the short Thanksgiving break, it’s likely that they won’t cross paths until next week at the earliest.

He hopes she’s doing all right.

“Hey,” Yelena says, reaching across the table to grasp his wrist. “Is everything all right with you? You look . . . off.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” Mattias twirls his fork idly through his pasta for a few minutes, until the silence becomes too much for him to handle. “You’ve done this for a year and a half already,” he says at last. “Do you think we’re really helping them? The kids, I mean?”

“Of course we are,” she replies with a frown. “That’s our job, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I know that, it’s just—” Mattias sighs. He’s never been good with words, and he knows he has to watch what he says here. Elsa didn’t tell him that what she said was private, exactly, but it certainly isn’t the kind of thing he feels should be repeated lightly. “What do you do if someone comes to you with a problem that you can’t solve for them?”

Yelena clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “We can’t solve any of their problems for them, Mattias,” she says. “That’s not what we’re here for. The best we can do is point them in the right direction, so they can solve the problems themselves.”

There’s a part of Mattias that expected this sort of answer, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “I just think there should be more that we can do,” he says stubbornly. “Like you said, that’s our job—they’re our charges. We owe it to h—to them.”

“Please,” Yelena snorts. “Half of those students see us as nothing but a minor inconvenience, and the other half thinks we’re one step from being campus police. We barely owe them anything.”

Mattias hesitates, pursing his lips in suspicion. “I take it check-ins haven’t been going well for you, then.”

She lets out a long breath, a wry smile working its way across her face. “You could say that,” she sighs. “And you’re right, that was . . . uncharitable of me. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose it’s just a stressful time for all of us,” Mattias shrugs. He glances at the clock over his shoulder, which unfortunately informs him that it’s 12:53, seven minutes to his last class before break. “I’ll see you on Monday?” he says.

Yelena nods absently. “Have fun with your family.”

“I will, thank you,” Mattias replies. “Try not to let the freshmen burn down the dorms while I’m gone.”

She just snorts and rolls her eyes, so Mattias leaves her to finish her lunch as he makes the brisk walk to 1 PM calculus. He can barely pay attention for most of the class—there’s a combination of factors involved, really, but the important thing is that since it’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, neither can anyone else.

The professor releases them half an hour early, after she puts a single equation up on the board and watches for ten minutes as a group of glazed-eyed students attempt to look like they’re trying to differentiate it while simultaneously daydreaming about nothing at all. Part of Mattias feels sorry for her, but the other (much larger) part is elated at his unexpected freedom.

He texts his mom before leaving campus to drive home, and is just testing his door to make sure he’s locked it properly when he spots Elsa vanishing into her room.

_The best we can do is point them in the right direction, so they can solve the problems themselves._

Is it, though? Is that really all that people like him have to offer?

Sighing, Mattias pushes his door open again and finds a sheet of scrap paper from on top of his desk. He stares at it for several minutes, unable to think of anything to write, but he knows he should say _something_. Eventually, frustrated, he gives up and settles for something trite and probably not at all helpful. _Hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving_ , he scribbles. _Give Anna my regards._

He almost doesn’t slide it beneath her door—it feels so . . . inadequate, after all—but he’s gone to the effort of writing the note already, and besides, it can’t possibly hurt. Mattias steps out of his room, double-checks his door again, and drops the note off before finally getting around to heading home.

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner is amazing as usual. Not only is it relieving to taste home-cooked food once again, but his mom and dad always pull out all the stops for Thanksgiving—it’s one of the few times a year that he’s home, so he doesn’t blame them. He’s less enthused about all of the questions they tend to ask about his life at North, but hey. If that’s the price he pays to see his parents and talk with them for a few days, he’s glad to pay it.

“So, uh, how have things been here?” Mattias asks as he helps himself to a third helping of mashed sweet potatoes. It’s a desperate attempt to change the subject, but at this point in the night (really, at this point in his career as a student), he’s pretty sure he’s already told his parents everything about college that he could possibly tell.

His dad replies first. “It’s been quite all right,” he says. “Rather quiet, without you around.” He leans in conspiratorially, adding in a stage whisper, “You know, I think your mother might be going crazy with nothing to do. She’s been dragging me to all sorts of strange things since you’ve left this time.”

“Oh, hush,” his mom laughs. “Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy them. I know you better than that.”

“Guilty as charged,” his father says with a grin, holding up his hands in mock surrender. To Mattias, he says, “We’ve been spending the weekends hitting up the local theaters and performing arts centers. One of your mother’s friends was in a community play a couple months back, and—well, frankly, it was amazing. Far better than I ever thought a community play could be.”

Mattias grins at that. He’s glad to hear that his parents are keeping busy, and he tells them as much. He remembers all too well the rough go they had at it for the first few years he was gone.

“Well, that’s the way it is; life changes,” his father says, shrugging. “Keeping busy is just one part of dealing with that.”

“Speaking of which,” his mother adds, “you should join us for one when you’re back for New Year’s. We’re planning on dropping by the Ahtohallan one of those weekends.”

“The Ahtohallan?” Mattias says, brow furrowing. “That’s no community theater.” He’s heard of the place before, if only in passing—all he knows is that it’s upscale, and somewhere downtown. Quite posh, as well, if he’s thinking of the right place.

“They like to host community groups during the holiday season,” his mother explains. “Discounted tickets for two weeks, the works. It’s their way of giving back to the city.”

Huh. So maybe not quite as posh as he’s heard.

“Sounds good to me,” he tells his parents. “What shows are they putting on this year?”

“I’m not quite sure, actually,” his father says, at the same time his mother says, “It’s a musical that one of the local consortiums is doing—about some town in Canada?” She snaps her fingers, lips pursed, before finally arriving at— “ _Come From Away_! That was what it was called.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Mattias says absently. But, assuming it’s an even remotely well-known musical— “Elsa probably has, though.”

“Elsa?” his father asks. The name seems to have piqued his interest, though Mattias isn’t entirely sure why.

“One of the students I’m supervising this year,” Mattias shrugs. “She’s into singing—Broadway, musicals, that sort of thing.”

“Elsa . . .” muses his father. “Would this be an Elsa van Arendelle, by any chance?”

Mattias freezes. “Yes, she is. How did you know?”

“Ah, I knew it!” his father exclaims. “I thought the name sounded familiar.” He turns to Mattias’s mother and gestures wildly—Mattias isn’t quite sure what he means, and from the look on her face, neither does his mom. “Do you remember Agnarr?” he asks finally. “He was a year above us—tall, had that _impeccable_ moustache?”

“Of course I remember him,” his mother says, rolling her eyes. “I remember every soul we’ve ever fed under this roof—every one, without fail.”

Mattias’s head is spinning. “I’ve—we’ve—you’ve met the van Arendelles before?” He’s pretty sure he ought to have some memory of this. “When did this happen?”

“Oh, we were great friends back in high school,” his father says with a fond smile. “Though I didn’t see much of him after that. He and his wife were here once, when you were quite young—I don’t know why, but they were discussing baby names. Guess it’s just stuck with me all these years.”

“They were discussing baby names because Iduna was pregnant, you dolt,” says Mattias’s mother. Then she frowns and adds, “They said they’d bring the baby over to play one day, but they never did. I wonder why.”

“I haven’t seen either of them since, come to think of it,” says his father. “Tell Elsa to say hi from us, will you?”

Which, okay, that’s not really something Mattias would be incredibly eager to do under the best of circumstances—it’s kind of a strange request, after all, especially for someone he’s technically supposed to be supervising—but now it also means he has to be the bearer of bad news. And on Thanksgiving, no less.

“Actually,” Mattias says, and then he looks up into his parents’ eyes and stops. There’s no need to kill the mood, not tonight, and Elsa never explicitly told him what happened to her parents anyways. For all he knows, they’re . . . alive and well and living somewhere far apart from their children who love them very much?

Yeah, most likely not.

“Actually,” he says, “I’m not really all that close to her. It probably wouldn’t be very appropriate.”

“Ah, of course.” His father nods in understanding. “Perhaps I’ll give Agnarr a call one of these days, then. He’d certainly get a kick out of hearing about this!”

Well, Mattias decides, if his father finds out about the circumstances on his own, then so be it. But he knows him well enough to know that he probably won’t end up calling—at least, not unless someone reminds him to. And Mattias certainly has no intention of doing that.

The conversation turns quickly back to safer places, though Mattias is careful to avoid any further mentions of Elsa or musicals. He does tuck _Come From Away_ into the back of his mind to mention to her, though. It sounds like something she might want to see.

* * *

It’s snowing on the Sunday night before classes start again. Mattias curses his lack of a heavy coat as he sprints across campus from the parking lot, intent on making it back to the dormitories before he freezes to death. He fumbles in his backpack for his I.D., pressing himself as far up against the building as possible, and when he finally manages to get the door open he’s through it in less time than it takes to blink.

Unfortunately, this means that he is very much _not_ looking where he’s going, and before he knows it, he’s on the ground groaning. A female voice curses violently from next to him.

“Fucking hell,” Anna groans, lying flat on her back with her arms spread-eagled. “What was that, a full-contact tackle?”

“Sorry—I’m really sorry about that. “Mattias struggles to his feet, intending to helping her up, but then he’s suddenly aware of someone else standing in the room, practically cackling with laughter.

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Anna,” Elsa says, reaching out a hand to her sister. “And don’t curse, it’s not—”

“—polite to curse in company, I know.” Anna rolls her eyes, but she takes Elsa’s hand and allows herself to be pulled to her feet. Mattias steadies himself against the wall.

“Uh—hi,” he says. “And sorry again about that. It seems I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Elsa snorts in laughter, and Anna just waves him off. “Don’t worry about it,” she tells him. “Honestly, you should see how clumsy I am all the time.”

“You really should; it’s a miracle she’s still alive.” For the first time tonight, Mattias gets a good look at Elsa. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is a choppy mess, but she’s smiling. Mattias wants to tell her to get more sleep. “It’s—uh, it’s good to see you, though,” she says, and it takes him a moment to realize that she’s addressing him. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

A dozen thoughts run through his head at once—his family dinner, _Come From Away_ , his father asking him to ask her to say hello to Agnarr—but all he manages to say is, “Um, good. Pretty good. How was yours?”

“It was great!” Anna exclaims, while Elsa shrugs and says, “It was all right.” The two of them glance at each other, frowning. Mattias decides not to comment.

“Well, anyway,” Elsa says, her tone betraying a false brightness, “Anna was just accompanying me back to the school. It’s probably time I went to bed, though, so if—”

“You’re being weird,” Anna says, interrupting her. “You’re both being weird.” She looks at Elsa. “And didn’t you say I could stay the night here, because of the snow?”

Elsa flushes, tugging at her scarf. “Well, yes,” she says. “I mean—what I meant to say was—”

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Mattias says, holding up a hand to forestall her. “As far as I’m concerned, there are zero residence hall policies being broken tonight.” Elsa inclines her head to him, relief written across her face, and Anna bites her lip.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize that we were—uh, never mind, maybe I shouldn’t say it out loud.”

“Probably for the best,” Elsa says wryly, but she’s smiling again. “As I was saying, though, I think it’s about time for me to turn in. Coming, Anna?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anna sighs. “G’night, Mattias!” she says, waving as she departs. “I’ll see you—well, sometime soon, probably!”

“Sometime soon,” Mattias echoes with a wry grin. He lets them disappear down the hall while he fiddles with his backpack straps, then heads down toward his own room. Before he gets into bed, he notes with relief the snow jacket hanging from his coatrack—if it’s still snowing tomorrow, at least he won’t freeze to death walking to class.

He tosses and turns for a while before he can get to sleep, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what exactly is on his mind.

* * *

As it turns out, ‘sometime soon’ ends up being the very next morning.

Mattias runs into Anna as he’s exiting his room for the day, intending to grab a quick breakfast before his class at 9. Anna, meanwhile, appears to have just rolled out of bed—her hair is completely askew, and the t-shirt that she was wearing last night is considerably more wrinkled. She rubs her eyes blearily when she sees him.

“Morning,” she mutters, blinking. “Seems someone’s an early riser.”

“It’s 8:15 A.M.,” Mattias points out. Hardly early, but then, he is what most people would consider a morning person.

“Fair ‘nough,” Anna shrugs. He wonders if she managed to get enough sleep last night. “You’re better than Elsa, though. She was out before seven, dunno why.”

Mattias winces. He definitely doesn’t envy her if she has a 7 A.M. class, which seems likely if she’s left without her sister. He tells her as much, and Anna just sighs.

“Ugh, class at seven in the morning? I thought I’d be done with that once I leave high school.”

“You can usually avoid them, if you plan your schedule properly.” But then a thought occurs to him— “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in school right now? It’s Monday, yes?”

“Nah,” Anna shrugs. “I mean, yes, it’s Monday. But we got enough snow that school’s cancelled for the day. Guess you guys aren’t so lucky.”

Personally, Mattias hasn’t seen North College shut down for anything short of a full blizzard, so he’s not really surprised. “Well,” he says, “I was just on my way to breakfast, but I’m sure Elsa will be around eventually—she knows you’re still here, right?”

“Probably. I texted her when I woke up, but she hasn’t replied.” Anna doesn’t seem too concerned about it, so it’s probably fine. No one’s going to check for a guest pass, anyway. “Wait, did you say breakfast? Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, go ahead,” Mattias says. “I usually eat with Yelena on Mondays, but you’ve met her already and you don’t seem to hate each other.”

“Yelena . . .” Anna snaps her fingers, frowning. “Oh! Your partner?”

Mattias nods, and then a wry voice over his shoulder says, “So we’re partners now, eh? Could’ve fooled me, with how little I’ve seen this one recently.” Yelena steps up next to him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, hello, Anna. Nice to see you again.”

“Maybe I’ve just been busy with handling the B-side of the dorm over Thanksgiving,” Mattias grumbles, and then a thought occurs to him. “Or maybe I’m actually planning that surprise karaoke party that will blow yours out of the water.”

Yelena scoffs. “Mm-hm, as if that will ever happen.”

Anna glances between the two of them, her eyes lighting up. “A surprise karaoke party?” she says, grinning. “What kind of occasion are we talking here? Because I’m _great_ at parties. Especially planning them.”

“No one but me is actually planning any parties,” Yelena says with a sigh. “I’m not sure Mattias could throw one even with the help, to be honest.”

“Hmph,” Anna grumbles, glaring at Yelena. Mattias is pretty sure she mumbles, “We’ll see about _that_ ,” under her breath, but he can’t quite be sure.

After a little more cajoling—and a pointed reminder from Mattias—the three of them head to the dining hall for breakfast. Both Mattias and Yelena offer to let Anna in for free, but she insists on fronting the cost herself. Mattias is pretty sure that no amount of dining hall food is with the sixteen dollar price tag for non-residents, but hey, it’s her money.

It stopped snowing sometime during the night, which Mattias is grateful for. They pass several snowball fights on their way across campus, as well as a group of laughing students attempting to assemble a snowman from the measly inch of snow. Anna gazes longingly at them.

“So,” Anna says, once they’ve gotten their food and seated themselves near one of the walls. “Are you going to tell me why you were being so weird last night?”

Mattias freezes with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. “Being weird?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“You and Elsa both.” Anna says, staring at him. “Well, she was being weird before you ran into me, actually. But after you arrived, it was like, double weird.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question?”

“Ugh, you know, you were just being—” Anna gestures wildly with her hands, nearly losing the pancake that she’s speared with her fork. “—weird.”

“Very helpful.”

She sighs. “You just seemed—I dunno, uncomfortable, or something. Like there was an elephant in the room and it was about to trample everyone to death before you could stop it.”

From across the table, Yelena gives her a weird look. “I don’t think that’s how the phrase is supposed to be used.”

“Huh, really?” Anna shrugs. “That makes it a weirder phrase than I though, then..” She turns back to Mattias and says, “Come on, answer the question. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, really,” says Mattias, attempting to wave her off. “I was just tired last night.”

“Are you and Elsa having an argument?”

Mattias blinks. “What? No, of course not.” He’s not sure if they know each other well enough to ‘have an argument’, if he’s being honest. “I’m just . . . worried about her. It seems like she’s going through a rough time.”

Anna’s eyes narrow, darting back and forth as she thinks. “She told you about Mom and Dad, didn’t she?”

It’s impressive, really, how perceptive Anna can be despite her frazzled nature. Mattias gapes for a moment, trying to come up with a response. “Um—well—no, not exactly,” he says. “But she dropped some hints, and I . . . put them together”

“Figures.” The spark has vanished from Anna’s eyes, and her shoulders have begun to hunch inwards. “She hasn’t been the same since they died,” she says quietly. “For a while, I thought—I mean, I thought it would be okay, since we still had each other and at least that hadn’t changed, but . . .” She trails off, picking at her food. “Well, now it’s been five years, and nothing feels normal anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Mattias says softly. It feels completely inadequate, but really, there’s nothing he can think of that would come remotely close to enough.

“I just want her to be happy, y’know?” Anna says. “I thought college might be good for her, something to get her out of this miserable town and meet some new people. But it seems she just can’t escape.”

_She could have_ , Mattias thinks, _but she chose not to._ Why? Because she was worried about leaving Anna behind? Anna seems fine to him, but is she hiding secrets of her own?

He’s _very_ not qualified to deal with this, he realizes. Honestly, with everything they’ve told him, the two of them should probably be seeing psychiatrists—heavy trauma at a formative age is especially dangerous, or so he’s been told.

He’s trying to come up with a tactful way to word that thought when Anna’s phone buzzes. She glances down at it, swiping through her messages, and blinks in surprise. “Huh,” she says. “Well, this breakfast was nice and all, but I gotta run—don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.” She stands from her seat, shoving a plastic cup of fruit salad into the inner pocket of her jacket, and gives Mattias and Yelena a quick thumbs-up and a smile. “Don’t worry about telling Elsa about all this. And bye!”

Before either of them can respond, she’s halfway across the dining hall and gone.

Mattias shares a look with Yelena, who just shakes her head. “I feel bad for them,” she says. “I really do.”

“Yeah, so do I.” He wonders briefly what could possibly have called Anna away so quickly, but there’s a long list of potential candidates and not very many ways to narrow it down. He’ll probably find out the next time he sees her, anyway.

“Out of curiosity,” Yelena says, “is this what you were referring to when you asked me last week about problems we can’t help with?”

Mattias nods, and Yelena lets out a slow breath.

“Well,” she says slowly. “I suppose my advice still stands. There’s not much we can do here to help, not without poking our noses into places where they may not be welcome at all.”

He nods again, but to be honest, he’s a little bit tired of hearing that. Elsa is one of his students, one of the people he’s literally getting paid to help ‘ease into’ the college life, but she’s still miserable here. Sure, some of the misery stems from other sources, but—what was it Anna had said about college? _Something to help meet new people_.

Well, _he’s_ a new person. The only one Elsa’s really talked to, if he’s reading her right. And if there’s any way he can help her out, then goddammit, Mattias is going to find out what it is.

* * *

He mentions therapy the next time he sees her anyway, because as frustrating as it is, there are some things he knows he can’t help with. But even if her reaction is lackluster at best, he also mentions _Come From Away_ , and that topic gets significantly more interest.

“It’s a community production, you said?” Elsa asks. She’s sitting on the windowsill in the common room, a stack of notebooks on her lap, while Mattias faces her in one of the armchairs. “In the Ahtohallan?”

“That’s what my mom told me,” Mattias shrugs. “Apparently they do it as some sort of charity thing over the holidays.”

“No, I knew about that part,” she says. “I just hadn’t heard that one of the groups was doing that show this year.” She’s fidgeting with her braid again, Mattias notices. “I mean, I adore _Come From Away_.”

“Well, you should go out and see it, then,” Mattias tells her. “Take Anna, make a day of it. Even if it’s just a community group, I’m sure it will be great.”

“Mm, yes, I would think so.” Elsa’s technically looking at him, but her eyes are far away. “Actually, I’m not sure Anna has the patience to sit through a musical. But perhaps.”

It sounds suspiciously like she’s decided against it, but he decides not to push. He’s doing what he can, but Elsa is her own person. If she decides she really wants to see the show, he’s sure she’ll find a way.

“Speaking of Anna,” Elsa says, zoning back in, “did you see her at all on Monday? She says she spent the day wandering around campus, but I didn’t see her anywhere.”

“I saw her for a little while, around 8 in the morning,” Mattias tells her. “She joined Yelena and I for breakfast, but she left in the middle of it. Said she had to run.”

For a brief moment, he wonders if it was because their conversation had been a little too much to handle—but no, she didn’t look upset. Or at least, Mattias doesn’t think she did.

“Interesting,” Elsa says, drawing out the word and narrowing her eyes. Too late, Mattias remembers Anna hinting that they ought to not mention her abrupt departure to Elsa. “I guess I’ve got a little sister to interrogate when I call her tonight.”

“Ah, um,” Mattias coughs. “If she asks, I wasn’t the one who told you about that.” Elsa arches an eyebrow at him.

“She’ll be able to guess.”

Okay, probably. “But she won’t know for sure.”

“With Anna, I’m not sure there’s much of a difference.” Elsa shrugs. “But if you insist, I suppose.”

She produces her laptop from behind her back, balancing it precariously atop the stack of notebooks in front of her, and starts humming to herself as she types. Mattias has never actually listened to _Hamilton_ , but he’s pretty sure he recognizes the tune.

He does, however, have enough social awareness to recognize that the conversation is over, so he doesn’t ask about it. Instead, he pulls out his own computer and decides to get some work done while he’s here. Though now that he actually thinks about it, he doesn’t quite feel like doing work on any of his classes . . .

Mattias drums his fingers on the arm of the couch and frowns. Yelena’s voice from Monday morning pops into his head— _I’m not sure Mattias could throw one even with the help, to be honest_ —and he narrows his eyes and opens a web browser. He very well _could_ throw a party, thank you very much, even if right now he has no idea where to start.

Right?

* * *

He’s about three hours deep into an Amazon rabbit hole (in which he started at snowflake streamers and is somehow now at hair dryers for dogs, which he didn’t even know were a thing that existed) when the buzzing of a phone from across the room jerks him out of his reverie. He looks up to see Elsa still on the windowsill, clutching her braid in a death grip and staring intently at her computer screen.

“Elsa?” he says, and she flinches back like she’s been struck. “Are you all right?”

“Uh, yes, I’m fine. Completely fine.” She swallows, then gives her laptop one last look before slamming it shut with a sigh. Only then does she appear to realize that it’s her phone that’s been going off. “Oh, shi—shoot, sorry, I have to get this.”

She swipes at her phone, jamming her laptop and books into her bag without looking, and a moment later Mattias hears Anna’s voice shout, “Elsa! Hi!”

“Hi, Anna,” Elsa says, holding her phone up to her face and smiling. She slings her bag over her shoulder and makes for the door, giving Mattias a small wave as she passes. “Give me one moment, I’m a little bit—”

“Hold on, this isn’t your room,” Anna realizes. “Sorry, sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I was just working outside, and I lost track of time . . .” Elsa’s voice fades out as she slips into the hall and the door swings shut behind her. Mattias watches her go, then turns his attention back to the two dozen browser tabs he has open. One or two of them are actually relevant to his party planning, but the others . . . less so.

Mattias sighs. It might, he thinks, be time to take some drastic measures.

* * *

“No way.” Anna’s voice is tinny over the speakers, and from the angle her video is at, Mattias suspects but isn’t sure that she’s crossing her arms for dramatic effect. “Nuh-uh. There’s no way I’m helping you out, you dirty rotten traitor.”

Mattias sighs. From her perch on the common room windowsill, Elsa is silently losing it. It’s been nearly a week, and yet Anna still seems insistent on holding onto her faux-grudge, or whatever this is— “I still can’t believe she told you it was me,” Mattias complains, sending Elsa a half-glare before turning back to the screen. “Please, Anna?”

“She actually didn’t tell me, now that you mention it,” Anna says with a shrug. “But it was either you or Yelena, and I know Elsa doesn’t talk to Yelena because she’s much scarier than you, no offense.”

“None taken?”

Elsa collects herself long enough to smirk at him. “Told you she’d figure it out,” she says.

“Yes, all right, your sister is an intelligent, capable human being.” One that he might have been able to enlist for his party-planning efforts if it hadn’t been for his unfortunate slip-up.

“Compliments aren’t going to help your case, mister,” Anna says haughtily. “Especially if they’re not even directed at me.”

Mattias ignores her, directing his next question at Elsa instead. “I’m curious,” he says, “where did she actually go that day? I assume you got it out of her eventually, right?”

Elsa grins wickedly, and Mattias knows he’s made the right call. From the other end of the line, Anna lets out a squeak. “Elsa, don’t you _dare_ —”

“Anna has a _boyfriend_ ,” Elsa crows, still grinning, and Anna buries her head in her hands.

“I do not have a boyfriend,” she protests, her voice muffled. “I went on a date with a boy. One date. There’s a difference!”

“Oh, so you admit it was a date, then?” Elsa’s eyes are sparkling in a way that Mattias has never seen before, and it suddenly occurs to him just how much of an anchor Anna is for her. “I thought you were bent on insisting it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t—I don’t—” Anna splutters incoherently, leaning back in her chair and groaning. “This isn’t fair,” she complains. “I came here to make fun of Mattias, but now I’m the one being made fun of?”

“Well, you’re the one who brought up what happened on Monday,” Mattias says, as casually as he can. When Anna just glares at him, he asks, “So what’s his name?”

“Okay, okay,” Anna groans. “Fine, I’ll help you out with your party, just please stop asking me about my—”

“His name’s Kristoff,” Elsa says primly. “He’s in three of Anna’s classes, and I have it on good authority that he’s cute, if you’re into that sort of thing—”

“ _Elsa!_ ”

“Yes?”

Anna’s face is in her hands again, but Mattias can still tell that she’s flushing bright red. “This is exactly why I told Mattias not to tell you anything.”

“And this is exactly why I dragged it out of him.”

Anna sighs deeply before dropping her hands, then points a finger at Mattias. “You’re gonna owe me one,” she says, “or potentially two. I’ll decide when I’m less busy being _embarrassed by my own sister_.” She raises her voice for the last part, but Mattias is pretty sure that Elsa is having no problems hearing her, anyway.

“Always a pleasure to serve,” Elsa says, inclining her head in a mock curtsy. Anna just sticks her tongue out and hangs up the call.

“Well,” Elsa practically cackles, “I’d say that went well.” Noticing Mattias’s expression, she adds, “Oh, don’t worry, she’ll call back in about five minutes. Give or take a few.”

And she’s right, of course; Anna does call them back. She’s decided that he’ll only owe her one favor for this, which Mattias agrees is a more than generous offer.

* * *

“Ugh, Mattias, your taste in music is _awful_ ,” Anna complains. She’s sprawled out on her back on one of the common room couches and scrolling through his phone, making faces as she goes. “I thought Elsa’s was bad, but seriously—do you have a single song in here with lyrics in it?”

“I’m sure there’s one or two there somewhere,” Mattias shrugs. “How much does the music matter, anyway? It’s just going to be there in the background.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Anna says, looking positively scandalized. Mattias holds his hands up in surrender. “People want music they can dance to, or at least stuff they can sing along with. Two hours of John Philip Sousa marches ain’t gonna cut it, buddy.”

“I’d like to point out that that listening to Sousa is quite effective for productivity—”

“And pretty fucking awful for a party, no offense.” Anna flicks his phone off and tosses it at him, and Mattias barely manages to catch it. “You have a Spotify, at least, right? Give me your username and I’ll share a couple playlists with you.”

Mattias frowns. “Um . . .”

“Oh, don’t tell me.” Sighing, Anna drags herself into a sitting position and gives him a level glare. “You don’t even have Spotify?”

“I never really saw the point,” he protests. “I don’t listen to enough music to pay for their subscription, and the ads annoy me.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Anna sighs. “Here, toss your phone back and I’ll log you into mine.” He doesn’t toss his phone, but he does walk it over to her, and she takes it out of his outstretched hand and starts typing. “You’re lucky Elsa was there to convince me to help you, or you’d be royally screwed for tomorrow. Not that I—” she looks up, toward the window, and falters. “Elsa?”

Mattias follows her gaze to where Elsa is staring at her laptop, mouthing something to herself intently. He suddenly realizes that she hasn’t jumped into the conversation for a while now, not even to tell Anna off for cursing. 

“Earth to Elsa!” Anna shouts, lobbing one of the couch pillows at her sister. Elsa, for her part, doesn’t even notice the projectile until it hits her in the shoulder with a low _whump_. She pulls an airpod out of her ear and looks up.

“Sorry, what was that?” she says. “I wasn’t . . . paying attention.”

“Come on, Elsa, you’re part of this planning party—this party planning committee, too.” Anna frowns. “Hmm, now that’s a tongue twister.”

“Anna, I’m sorry, but you know I have even less aptitude for this than Mattias does. I’m just here to . . . make sure everything goes smoothly.” Elsa’s hands jerk toward her braid, but she stills them with an effort. “Besides, I won’t even be there at the party tomorrow. What could I do to help?”

“Well, neither will I, and I’m still helping,” Anna retorts, before she realizes what Elsa’s just said. “Wait, what? You’re not going to be there?”

“You know me, Anna,” Elsa says, her voice strained. “Parties aren’t exactly something I consider attending regularly.”

“But this isn’t just any old party,” Anna says. “You gotta show up and support your, uh—” She turns to Mattias. “What is it you’re called, again? Her supervisor? College counselor?”

“Her R.A.,” Mattias says, amused.

“Right, your R.A.” Anna wrinkles her nose as she says it, like the title has personally offended her or something. “Why does it have to be an acronym? That makes it sound all . . . _official_.”

“Well, it is official.” Mattias crosses his arms and gives her his best stern look. “This is practically a job, you know. I get paid for it and everything.”

Anna takes a moment to consider this. “Nah,” she decides, flopping down onto her back again. “You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re doing with this party thing, there’s no way you’re official.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly part of the job description—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Anna says, waving Mattias off, “the point here is, Elsa, you’re going to the party tomorrow. Like I said before, show some support! Your . . .” She frowns. “Your, uh . . .”

Mattias gives her a look. “I literally _just_ told you.”

“R.A.!” she cries. “See? I didn’t forget, it just took a minute. Elsa, your R.A. needs you!”

“Technically speaking, it’s my job to be there for the students, not the other way around.” While he won’t deny that a show of support would be nice, Elsa is by no means obligated to come around. It’s probably not considered a ‘party’ anymore once your guests are being forced to attend, anyway.

“But—” Anna tries again, but this time she’s interrupted by Elsa.

“I’m actually busy tomorrow night,” she says quietly, shutting her laptop and folding her hands on top of it. “I have—things to do. Won’t even be on campus, really.”

In a flash, Anna is sitting up again, eyes narrowed. Elsa bites her lip, like she knows she’s revealed too much. “Not even on campus?” Anna says. “What’s the elusive, antisocial Elsa van Arendelle up to on a Friday night that’s taking her _off-campus_?”

“I really don’t—” Elsa starts. Anna doesn’t even give her a chance to finish.

“Are you going out drinking?” she asks, then frowns. “No, that’s definitely not it, you’d never drink. Hmm. Dinner means you’d be back in time for the party, unless . . .” Anna pauses, and an evil grin works its way onto her face. “Do you have a hot date?”

“Do I have a—no, I do not have a _date_!” Elsa looks like she’s seriously debating whether or not to brain her sister with the pillow sitting next to her, but to her credit, she doesn’t. Though Mattias does see her fingers twitch.

“Are you sure?” Anna asks, still grinning. “Because I wouldn’t judge you if you did—”

“Anna.”

“—although if someone has managed to catch your eye, I’d love to meet her, whoever she is, because it’s honestly a miracle—”

“ _Anna_.” Elsa’s mouth is set in a hard line, and her glare is cold enough that Mattias can practically feel the temperature in the room dropping.

“Fine, fine, I’ll drop it,” she sighs. “Geez.”

Elsa’s gaze lingers nervously on Mattias for a split second, short enough that he’s almost convinced the moment is a figment of his imagination. But whatever she’s afraid of, she doesn’t seem to find, because she lets out a breath and some of the tension comes slowly out of her back.

“So, anyway,” Elsa says. “I won’t be free tomorrow night. Sorry.” And despite her frosty demeanor just a moment earlier, the apology sounds genuine.

Anna huffs. “I still want to know where you’re going,” she says, “and I’m _so_ going to interrogate you about it later. But for now, Mattias and I have a party to plan—how much alcohol did you say you had, again?”

They settle back into a rhythm after that, despite Mattias’s insistence that no, he doesn’t have _any_ access to alcohol, and even if he did, it would be incredibly irresponsible for him—as figure of authority—to offer to serve it to minors. Elsa opens her laptop back up, smirking as he attempts to field Anna’s questions as best he can.

“So what’s the advertising been like?” Anna asks eventually, as she’s packing up to leave. Mattias is exhausted enough that he barely even registers the question—party planning is much, much harder than he’d initially assumed. And he’s not even the one doing most of it.

“Uh, advertising?” he says. “What advertising?”

Anna blinks. “You mean you’re planning on holding a party tomorrow night, in this very building, and the only three people who know about it are the ones right here?”

Technically, there are four people who know—Yelena, as always, is at least marginally aware of his plans—but he doubts that’s the answer Anna is looking for. “Um, more or less?”

“Well,” Anna says slowly, “probably should have led with that one, really. That would’ve been an . . . important thing to do.”

Mattias isn’t entirely certain, but he’s pretty sure that the look on her face means that in terms of actually pulling this party off, he’s completely, entirely screwed.

* * *

The common room is empty aside from Mattias, who’s reading through yesterday’s calculus lecture on his laptop, when Yelena walks in the following evening.

“Wow,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. “This is quite the turnout for a party, I’d say.”

“Actually, I decided it might be best to cancel it entirely,” Mattias says with a shrug. It’s not technically a lie, even if his decision to cancel was made after exactly zero attendees managed to show up in the first ten minutes. “A massive party probably isn’t what everyone needs the Friday before finals, anyway.”

Yelena looks around the room, frowning. “And yet you decided to decorate anyway.”

“Well, I couldn’t let all of Anna’s planning go to waste.” He advances the slide in his lecture and sighs when yet another complicated formula appears on the screen. “She’s really quite talented at these sorts of things.”

“So you _were_ plotting with her,” Yelena says, crossing her arms. “Even if you had managed to pull it off, it wouldn’t have counted.”

“You never would have known if I hadn’t just told you,” Mattias shrugs. “Besides, a good R.A. takes advantage of their resources.”

“Mm-hmm.” Yelena looks like she’s debating whether or not to sit, but Mattias doesn’t give her an indication either way. “Funny,” she says carefully, “I would have thought you’d be a little more broken up about this.”

Mattias shoots her a grin. “Well, there’s always next semester.”

“Yes, I suppose there is.” She seems slightly off-put by his nonchalance, which he counts as a win, if only a small one. Before she leaves, she turns and says, “If you’re interested in attending a party not preceded by the word ‘pity’, we’ll be in this room next week. Same time you were planning for.”

Mattias just nods. “Yes, I have no doubt you will be.”

It’s only after she shuts the door behind her that he claps his laptop shut and allows himself a deep sigh. Yelena’s won this one; there’s no doubt about that. And he’s not entirely certain that she won’t be able to win the next one, too.

* * *

It’s just after 11 o’clock the next time the door swings open. Mattias has moved on from calculus and is currently attempting to make sense of his haphazard chemistry notes, but like the rest of the night, it isn’t going very well. He shuts his laptop immediately and looks up to see Elsa entering the room.

“Hello there,” he says, nodding in greeting. “I thought you told us that you didn’t tend to frequent parties.”

“I make exceptions on occasion,” she says, maneuvering around the tables that have been set up just inside the door. Her white-blue dress swirls around her as she moves, and Mattias notices that she’s done her hair up tonight. Briefly, he wonders if Anna was right about that date, but he discards the thought. Elsa doesn’t seem like the type to lie about that. “I thought I’d come in and see how you were doing,” she says, “but it seems like things have wrapped up already.”

“They never really got started, to be honest,” Mattias admits. “Anna was right. The only person who’s been in here since 8 P.M. was Yelena.”

“Oh.” Elsa sits down on the couch opposite Mattias, folding her hands in her lap. She’s wearing gloves, too, he notices—not winter gloves, but pale blue satin ones that look tailored to match her dress. “I’m—sorry about that,” she says, frowning. “You two have been working quite hard on this.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Mattias shrugs, and to his surprise, he finds that he almost believes himself. “Perhaps I’m just not made for hosting these sorts of things,” he says. “Even if I was a little bit looking forward to seeing what kind of music Anna deems ‘party-acceptable’.”

Elsa hums under her breath, then nods. “Nothing wrong with not being made to host parties,” she says. “You seem to do better in smaller groups, anyhow.”

“That I do,” he chuckles. When she doesn’t say anything else, he decides to ask— “So where did you end up at tonight? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up.”

Her humming stops. “Maybe I do this every Friday,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever seen me around on a Friday night before?”

And, well, no, he hasn’t. It’s not his job to keep tabs on all his students, and besides, Friday nights are typically the ones he likes to spend alone in his room. “I can’t prove that you don’t,” he replies, “but I have a strong suspicion. Not that you have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he adds quickly.

Elsa waves him off. “No, you’re all right, I was only joking.” She hesitates for a moment, her expression going pensive. “All the same, I’m not sure I want to say quite yet. Though I expect Anna will make that quite difficult for me.”

“Is that why you’re really here?” Mattias asks with a grin. “Delaying that inevitable conversation with your sister?”

“Perhaps, but you can’t prove that,” Elsa says, smiling thinly. “I did genuinely want to see how your party was going, though. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better for you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Mattias says again. “And, you know, it’s perfectly normal for you to want to keep secrets—even from Anna. You’re sisters, not doppelgangers.”

Elsa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I know that,” she says, staring down at her gloved hands. “Thank you, though.”

“I mean, I’m not saying that you should keep the bigger things from her,” Mattias adds. “There are always things that ought to be discussed, even if it’s hard. But healthy boundaries are important, too.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I know that sounds contradictory, and probably not at all helpful.”

“Well, that’s the nature of all advice, isn’t it?” Elsa shrugs. “The trick is learning where to apply which pieces of it, and when.”

Nineteen-year-olds, Mattias thinks, shouldn’t be allowed to spout things that sound that wise. Especially not off the tops of their heads.

“I suppose that’s true,” is all he says aloud, however. “I never really thought about it that way before.”

“Neither had I, until I said it just now,” Elsa says, and her smile is slightly larger than it was. “But I think I’m right, regardless.” She stands from her chair, stretching out her arms, and says, “Speaking of taking advice—I should stop putting off calling Anna for now. Thank you for the chat, Mattias.”

“No problem.” Mattias shoves his laptop into his bag as she goes, since it’s late and he should be getting to bed as well. “Thanks for coming.”

She waves to him as she passes through the doorframe, but she doesn’t pull it shut behind her. Once he’s sure he’s collected all of his belongings, Mattias follows her out of the room. 

By the time he makes it out into the hallway, she’s already vanished back into 147B, so he returns to his own room to charge his laptop and prepare for a good night’s sleep.

Perhaps he’ll think on her advice, as well.

* * *

Mattias is sitting at his desk, debating whether or not to investigate Yelena’s display of her party planning skills in the common room, when his phone rings with an unknown number displayed on the caller I.D..

He picks it up, because it’s not like he has anything better to do.

“Hello?” he says. “Who is—”

“Mattias!” Anna’s voice shouts from the other end of the line. He winces and pulls the phone away from his ear. “Oh, good!”

“Anna?” he says, confused. As far as he can remember, they’ve only ever talked using Elsa’s phone. “How did you get this number?”

“Grabbed it from Elsa’s contacts when she wasn’t looking.” There’s a loud clattering noise from her end, and then a shriek. “Olaf, _down_! Bad dog!” Anna shouts, directly into the microphone, and Mattias gives up on holding the phone. He puts it on speaker instead and sets it down gingerly on his desk.

A stream of mumbled curses is the only thing to come out of his phone for the next few moments. “Sorry,” Anna says after a minute, sounding breathless, “our dog is busy being a total fucking disaster. What can I do for you?”

“Um.” Mattias frowns. “You were the one who called me?”

“Oh, right! Yes.” She’s lowered her voice to a somewhat manageable volume, so Mattias risks picking up the phone again. “I think there’s something very weird going on with Elsa.”

“What?” He’s pretty sure he saw her just this morning, and she’d been fine then—but that could be finals stress making up memories for him. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she says she is, but Elsa’s always saying that.” She hesitates a moment before asking, “Is there by any chance a party going on in your dorm tonight?”

Why is _that_ the question she’s choosing to ask?” Um, yes,” Mattias says. “Yelena’s hosting one to celebrate the end of finals.”

“Could you do me a _teensy_ tiny favor and go check if Elsa’s there?” Anna says. “Pretty please and thank you? It would mean a lot to me!”

“I guess I could,” Mattias sighs. It occurs to him that really, he’s just been looking for excuses not to show up—but this seems to be the opposite of that. He stands from his desk and moves toward the door. “What makes you think she’d be there?”

“Well, funny story,” Anna says, though he’s only half listening as he walks out into the hall. “I wanted to pick her up after classes today because Grand Pabbie and I made a special dinner to celebrate her first semester, right? But she told me she’d get home on her own, because she was going to a _party_? Which Elsa never does, as I’m sure you know, but . . .”

Mattias lowers the phone from his ear as he pushes his way into the common room, which is packed to the brim with students. Yelena stands in the far corner, a cup of some drink in her hand, watching over the proceedings and smiling. It’s loud enough that nobody hears the door open, which means his entrance goes mostly unnoticed, and a cursory scan is enough to tell him that Elsa is, indeed, nowhere to be found. He ducks out of the room before Yelena can see him and raises his phone again.

“ . . . and I know that doesn’t really support my theory, but there was also that one time when she was—hmm, seven, I think?—and Mom and Dad convinced her to, so maybe it’s something like—”

“She’s not there,” Mattias interrupts her, and the line goes silent.

“She’s not?” Anna demands after a moment. Mattias can hear the panic rising in her voice. “Gah, I _knew_ it! You’re a shitty liar, Elsa, you can’t fool me—I’m onto you, I’m—” She stops. “You’re sure she’s not there?”

“Pretty sure,” Mattias grumbles, but he opens the door again to check. He still doesn’t see Elsa, but Yelena spots him this time, giving him a smirk and a wave that’s entirely too self-assured. He closes the door again and retreats down the hallway. “I just checked again. She’s not there.”

“Shit,” Anna hisses. “Okay, okay, it’s fine. It’s totally fine. She’s probably just . . . somewhere else. Yeah. Nothing to worry about there. Nothing at all.”

“Have you . . . tried calling her, or something?” There’s a good chance that Anna is worrying herself over nothing, he thinks—there are plenty of different parties tonight that Elsa could be at, or maybe she’s just holed up in her room and enjoying some well-earned alone time. Mattias stops outside his own room and pulls on the door handle, then realizes that his keys are inside and he’s locked himself out.

Goddammit.

He checks his watch for the time—only 9:20. If he runs, he can probably make it to residential services before they close for the night.

“Mattias?” Anna says, and he realizes that he hasn’t been paying attention to her.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Can you try calling her?” she asks. “I tried, like, ten minutes ago and she didn’t pick up. Maybe she will for you?”

“If she won’t pick up for you, I doubt she will for me.” Mattias steps out of the dorms into the cold night air, shivering. Leaving his room without a jacket was a mistake. “Besides, I can’t call her. I don’t have her number.”

“You don’t have her number?” Anna demands. “You’re her supervisor or whatever—her R.A.!”

“Yes, I am,” he says through gritted teeth. (Mostly from the cold, he tells himself. He’s not irritated. Anna is just worried, and rightfully so.) “That just means she has my number, in case of emergencies. We don’t keep contact information for our students unless they give it to us.” And he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to even then.

Anna’s sigh is loud enough that he can hear it even through the phone. “Ugh, fine. What if I gave you her number and asked you to call it?”

“Look, Anna,” Mattias says, pulling open the door to the Res Services building. “Elsa’s her own person, right? She’s obviously doing something tonight—who knows, maybe she is at a party, and it’s just not the one that Yelena is hosting.”

“Mattias, she has no friends there,” Anna grumbles. “Other than you, I mean. Where would she go?”

“I’ll admit that I don’t know, but regardless, it’s not exactly—” Mattias stops as he’s interrupted by a loud chime from Anna’s end of the line. A sequence of notes blasts over his phone speaker, hanging in the air for several seconds after it stops. “Is everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, all good, that was just the doorbell.” There’s a brief pause, and then Anna seems to register what she’s just said. “Wait, that was the doorbell! I need to go get it, I’ll call you back.” 

Before he can respond, the line goes dead. Mattias shakes his head and sighs, then approaches the Res Services desk to ask them about a spare key for his room. Why, exactly, they choose to charge people ten dollars for this service is completely beyond him, but at least he doesn’t need his wallet to pay. The woman behind the desk accepts a swipe of his I.D. card instead, and then he’s on his way.

Anna doesn’t call him for the entirety of his walk back to the dorms—in fact, he’s able to unlock his room, find his own keys, and return the spare to Res Services before his phone finally buzzes again.

**Unknown Number:** it was elsa!

Mattias rests his head in his hand and sighs deeply. On his desk, his phone keeps buzzing.

**Unknown Number:** guess she had the same idea we had  
**Unknown Number:** only she decided to do it with takeout instead of home cooking  
**Unknown Number:** maybe we shouldve said something earlier  
**(Suggested: Anna):** oh this is anna btw

Mattias snorts, picking up the phone to text her back. He’s glad everything seems to have worked itself out, even if it’s been a little inconvenient on his end.

**Mattias:** Yes, I guessed as much.  
**Mattias:** I’m glad everything is okay, though. Hope you two have a nice break.

**(Suggested: Anna):** thanks! you too

Flipping his phone off again, Mattias decides to just throw the rest of his clothes into his duffel bag and head home. There’s no reason for him to stick around, he tells himself—absolutely none at all.

He pointedly ignores the singing and the chatter coming from the common room as he passes it, heading out once again into the night.

* * *

Most of winter break passes fairly uneventfully. He gets a text from Anna (whose contact he still hasn’t officially entered into his phone) about a week in, asking him to wish Elsa a happy birthday, which he does. Anna replies with a selfie of the two of them, in which she’s grinning like mad and Elsa is half-waving at the camera, wearing an expression that’s equal parts pained and amused.

He thinks that sums the two of them up quite well.

Yelena texts him once or twice, but they don’t have a lot to talk about. He supposes that’s only natural, considering that they’re basically—in a very loose sense of the word—coworkers, and when they’re not trying their best to outperform each other 24/7, there really isn’t much to discuss.

All in all, it’s a lot of alone time. But Mattias has always handled alone time fairly well, and he knows he’ll be back at school soon enough. He takes the opportunity to relax, and not worry about all the pressure he’s gotten so used to being under.

It’s the morning of the final Saturday of break when real life comes crashing rudely back in to awaken him.

Reaching blindly for his phone, Mattias answers it without bothering to check the caller I.D.—if someone’s calling him at 8 A.M. on a Saturday, he reasons, it’s either incredibly important or he can feel free to hang up on them without a guilty conscience.

“Hi, Mattias!” Anna says from the other end of the line, and he realizes that he was very, very much mistaken about that second bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning?”

There’s a pause, and then, “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you did,” Mattias says as he sits up against the headboard. “It’s fine, though. Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact—wait, hold on one sec.” There’s the unmistakable sound of a door slamming, and then Anna says, “So, remember that favor you owe me?”

Okay, this is going to be good.

“The favor I owe you for helping plan the party that didn’t happen?” he says.

“Details, details,” Anna sing-songs. “Besides, that bit was entirely your fault, and it would have been an _excellent_ party if you’d managed to pull it off.” She pauses. “But anyway, the point is that you owe me a favor, and I’m calling to collect.”

Mattias swaps his phone to his other hand and asks, “And what is this favor going to be?”

“I need tickets to whatever performance is going on at the Ahtohallan tonight.”

Unsure if he’s heard her correctly, Mattias frowns. “Wait—”

“You wouldn’t be buying them or anything,” Anna breaks in before he can continue. “Or, well, you would be, but I can pay you back. I have the money, it’s just you need to be eighteen to use their stupid website and you’re the only adult I know who’s capable of buying something on the Internet and also isn’t Elsa—”

“Okay, slow down,” Mattias says. He’s pretty sure tonight is the night his family was planning on catching a show—the one his mother was talking about over Thanksgiving, he recalls hazily—but he has no idea why Anna wants tickets as well. “Why not just ask Elsa?”

There’s a slight pause, and then, in a whisper: “Because then she’d know I’m onto her.”

_What?_

She’s going to have to back up quite a few steps before Mattias can catch up on what she’s talking about, and he tells her as much. On the other end of the line, Anna sighs and mutters, “Ugh, I _knew_ it wouldn’t be that easy.”

“Anna,” he says carefully, “I’m all for repaying favors and all of that, but I’d just like to know what’s going on before—”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs. There’s another pause, and then she says, “I tried to follow your advice, Mattias, I really did. But it was just— _agh_ , I can’t stand secrets, especially not after—well, you know, but that’s not really the point right now.”

Mattias wants to point out that no, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably best not to interrupt her. He waits for her to continue instead.

“The point is,” Anna says after a moment, “I kind of maybe sort of started following Elsa around? Only because she was acting suspicious, though. I mean, she disappears from campus on two consecutive Friday nights and expects me to believe that she was just out on her own? And that’s not to mention sneaking out of the house basically every night over break, _including_ , I might add, after her own birthday dinner, so I thought it would be good to just—check up on her, you know?”

She stops, and he realizes that she’s waiting for some sort of response. “Um,” Mattias says. “This has something to do with what you were asking about theater tickets?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there,” she grumbles. “So I’ve been following her out when she leaves at night, but you have no idea how good she is at this, because she kept losing me every night until yesterday—but I finally figured out where she’s been going, and you’re not gonna believe this.”

The gears are starting to turn in Mattias’s head, and he thinks he knows what Anna’s about to say, but he lets her say it anyway.

“She’s been at the Oaken Community Theater, Mattias,” Anna says, and the irritation in her voice is palpable. “Every weeknight, for six weeks running. I cross-checked their rehearsal schedule, and it matches up, right down to the audition dates that she missed your party for.” She pauses again, and he can hear her swallowing. “This has been her _dream_ , Mattias, ever since we were kids, so why—why—”

Anna’s voice chokes up, and she can’t quite finish the question, but Mattias is pretty sure he knows what it was going to be.

Also, a _lot_ of Elsa’s recent behaviors make much more sense to him now.

“Have you considered if she’s just scared?” Mattias says, because it’s always a question worth asking, in his opinion. There are plenty of reasons that someone—especially Elsa—might try to hide this sort of thing, but none of the ones he can think of are particularly good ones. “Maybe she’s just . . . trying to find a good way to break the news?”

“If she were doing that,” Anna grumbles, “she’d at least have managed to do it before her opening night.”

Somehow, Mattias isn’t so sure about that, but Anna knows her sister better than he does. He tries again. “Or maybe she has a good reason for keeping it secret,” he says. “What if, I don’t know, she didn’t want to tell you because she’s afraid that she’s going to make a mistake and screw up in front of you?”

“She wouldn’t screw up,” Anna says immediately, and for a moment he’s afraid he’s offended her. “But—you’re right, that does sound like something Elsa would say. And do.”

“I’m not saying that I know what she was thinking,” Mattias says. “And it’s possible that I’m entirely off base. But you’ve figured out this much, and if you want to see her perform that badly, maybe you should try talking to her—see if she’d be okay with it, and all that.”

“Maybe,” Anna says after a pause, “but if she knows I know, wouldn’t that just add to her stress? What if she screws it up and _I’m_ the reason? I can’t let that happen.”

“I thought you just said she wouldn’t—”

“She won’t,” Anna insists. “But I’m not risking it.”

“Okay,” Mattias says, nodding. “And just so we’re clear, that means you’re leaving it be, and you aren’t calling in your favor tonight?” It’s a messy situation, he knows, and he wishes that there was a better way out of it—but sometimes, you just have to let secrets lie. It’s not worth the potential damage to—

“Oh, what?” Anna says, and he realizes that he’s misjudged her again. “Nah, I’m still calling in my favor. But hear me out, because I have a plan . . .”

* * *

“For the record,” Kristoff says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly in Anna’s direction, “this is a horrible plan.”

Mattias likes him immediately.

They’re standing on the sidewalk outside of the animal shelter where Kristoff volunteers, having met there at Anna’s request. Mattias has to return to his parents in about half an hour to get ready for the play, but for now, he has two extra tickets in his pocket and a whole lot of misgivings about this idea of hers.

“So, let me run this again, in case I missed it the first time.” Kristoff unzips his jacket and leans up against the wall of the building, seemingly unbothered by the January cold. “We’re spending our second date watching a community production of _Come From Away_ , starring your sister, and if we think she doesn’t want us there—which you didn’t bother to clear with her beforehand, by the way—we have to be ready to bolt out of the theater at the end before she comes offstage and sees us?”

“That’s the plan.”

Kristoff throws his hands in the air and groans. “That’s not a plan! That’s, like, a freaking spy mission!” Anna sighs, practically deflating where she stands, and Kristoff blinks and takes a step toward her. “I’m sorry, that was a bit harsh,” he says. “But, you know, if she doesn’t want us there, shouldn’t we just . . . not go?”

“Maybe,” Anna shrugs. For a moment, the expression on her face is despondent, but then it’s unreadable as stone. “Maybe. But what if she _does_ want us there, and she was just too afraid to ask?” Noticing Kristoff’s dubious expression, she adds, “. . . or something?”

Personally, Mattias is not convinced, but he retrieves the tickets from his pocket anyway and hands them to Anna. “Here,” he says. “My parents are expecting me back soon, so I don’t have time to convince you one way or another. But at least you’ll have both options.”

Also, he’s not really certain which of the options is the right one, himself. And he’d prefer not to be wrong.

“Thanks,” Anna says glumly, taking the tickets and placing them carefully in her purse. “I— _we_ will think about it,” she says. “You have fun, though, Mattias.”

“I will,” he says. “And if you’re not there, I’ll be sure to give Elsa your best.”

He turns to hurry back to his car, but not before he hears Anna mutter, “I’m her fucking sister, you shouldn’t have to give her my best for me.”

He has a feeling he knows exactly where Anna is going to be tonight. Hopefully, Elsa won’t be too angry at either of them.

* * *

“You didn’t tell us that Elsa was auditioning for this!” his mother says as she flips through the program. And indeed, in the center of the cast list, there’s her name: _Beverly Bass, Annette, and Others - Elsa van Arendelle_. “Oh, Iduna and Agnarr must be so proud. Are they here tonight, do you think?”

Mattias almost brushes the question off. He’s moments away from replying with a shrug and a noncommittal, “Maybe, I’m not sure,” when he realizes just how the results of that would play out. His parents will insist on talking to her, even though she’s never actually met them, and then . . .

Tonight, he knows, is one that Elsa will want for herself. She doesn’t need to be reminded of her parents, not even by the most well-intentioned of people.

“Um, actually,” Mattias says slowly, “they . . . passed away. A few years ago, I think.”

Both of his parents fall silent.

“Oh, God,” his father whispers, more to himself than anyone else. His mother reaches over and takes his hand. “The poor dear.”

But they don’t have time to discuss it further, because at that moment, the lights begin to dim. Mattias feels a little guilty for dropping the news on them like this, but he knows it had to be said. He just wishes someone who’d known them both had been able to tell them, instead.

Mattias forces his attention back up to the stage, where one of the actors is giving what he assumes is the traditional welcome speech.

“ . . . and please, turn off all mobile devices or switch them to silent mode for the duration of the show,” she says. Mattias double-checks his phone, and despite the fact that it hasn’t been off silent mode in literal years, he flicks the ringer switch back and forth anyway. There’s one text message on the screen, which he doesn’t reply to.

**(Suggested: Anna):** we’re here

He hopes the seats he chose for them are sufficiently far away from the stage.

As he tucks his phone back into his pocket, the lights dim completely, and the curtain begins to rise. Somewhere below the stage, the band starts playing, and the last thing Mattias thinks before he’s pulled into the music is the realization that he somehow _still_ has no idea what this musical is even about.

* * *

Some sort of warning, he thinks, would have been nice.

He’s not sure when exactly he started crying—the second song, maybe? The third?—but it’s on and off until the final chord lands and the cast comes back out for bows, and even then it’s a little difficult to stop. He’s certain he’s not alone, either, judging by the sounds of the audience around him.

For a brief, indescribable moment, the world around him feels almost _false_. There’s no way he’s sitting alone in a theater, wiping tears from his eyes like an afterthought, when just a moment ago he was lucky enough to be bearing witness to the absolute pinnacle of human compassion and connection. There’s _no way_ —

Slowly, awareness comes back to him.

He’s not alone, he realizes; his parents are sitting next to him. He’s been watching a musical. And he’d been worried about . . . something, before the show had started, but whatever it was, that thought has long since passed. Mattias shakes his head to clear it, but it won’t clear, and for some reason he’s not really surprised.

He manages to rise with the rest of the crowd as they give the cast a standing ovation, but his arms hang uselessly at his sides, like they’ve somehow forgotten how to move.

* * *

Mattias is still in a daze as he wanders out into the lobby, where the cast and crew have begun mingling with the audience. Tears are still falling, but mostly happy tears this time, and people are hugging and congratulating each other and sobbing into each others’ shoulders like they’ve just been through the most emotional moments of their lives.

Honestly, he kind of gets it.

His parents excuse themselves to take a walk around the outside of the building, and Mattias pulls himself back into reality long enough to give them a wave good-bye. He’s not even sure if they notice, but he doesn’t blame them.

Mattias drifts aimlessly through the lobby until another voice manages to yank him out of his stupor.

“Mattias?” Elsa says. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Elsa!” Mattias says, turning. She looks surprised to see him, but not in a bad way, and she has one arm linked with a brown-haired girl in dress blacks that he doesn’t recognize. “I was just—here with my family.” There’s no reason for her not to believe him, but he feels compelled to add, “My parents have been planning to come see this ever since they heard about it in November.”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” she says with a smile. “I suppose that’s how you knew enough to tell me about it, isn’t it?”

“This is the R.A. you’ve been telling me all about?” the other girl asks Elsa. “The one who convinced you to audition?”

“What?” Mattias says, before she can answer. “I didn’t—I didn’t even know—”

Elsa interrupts him by tilting her head back and laughing— _actually_ laughing, the kind he’s only heard before around Anna—and when she manages to collect herself, she’s smiling at him. “But you did,” she says. “Those notes you left me, all the suggestions for where I could practice and the things I might enjoy—” She pauses. “I know it probably wasn’t a big deal to you, but it made me feel like someone cared. And it made me feel like I could do this, if I wanted to.”

The notes. It feels like such a long time ago—before all of this, before Thanksgiving, before party planning with Anna—but in reality, he knows it’s only been a couple months. “Well, um, I’m glad,” he manages to say. “You were phenomenal up there.”

“So was the rest of the cast,” she replies immediately, “and so was the crew, and the orchestra.” At that, she nudges the girl standing beside her, who rolls her eyes and grins. But then Elsa’s smile fades. “It sort of makes me regret not telling you all,” she says quietly, looking down at her hands. She’s wearing the blue gloves again, Mattias notices belatedly. “But I was just . . . too scared, I suppose.”

The other girl (who Mattias assumes is in the orchestra) gives Elsa an encouraging nod and squeezes her arm lightly, which is apparently enough to get her to continue. “I had the audition the night of your party, you know,” she says. Mattias already knows that, of course, but he doesn’t say anything. “I didn’t want to say anything that night because I didn’t even know if I would be cast. But then I _was_ cast, but I was already keeping the secret, and it just got more and more difficult to start that conversation . . .” she sighs. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” Mattias says immediately. “Your business is yours to keep, Elsa. I won’t pry it from you.”

“Thank you,” Elsa says, smiling wistfully. “All the same, I do wish I’d told someone.” She gestures around them at all of the happy congratulatory groups wandering through the crowd. “I had no idea the celebrations would be this . . . enjoyable.”

Mattias opens his mouth to speak, and the orchestra girl moves to pat Elsa on the shoulder, but someone else beats them both to it. “Well,” Kristoff says from behind them, causing Elsa to squeak and jump a solid two inches off the floor, “in that case, I have both good news and bad news.”

Elsa blinks, seemingly unable to comprehend what he’s saying. The orchestra girl stifles a giggle, and Mattias just sighs.

* * *

They find Anna on a bench outside, where she’s busy sobbing her eyes out into the sleeve of her dress. She clutches a handkerchief in one hand, but seems to have abandoned the idea of using it.

“Kristoff,” she gasps as the three of them approach. “Did you find her?”

Kristoff says nothing, just nods wordlessly, as Elsa kneels in front of her sister and takes her hand. “Anna,” she says. “Anna, I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“You—you were—Elsa, you were _incredible_ ,” she chokes out. “I can’t believe—” Anna blinks, trying to clear her eyes, and for the first time she seems to notice Mattias and the orchestra girl hovering awkwardly off to the side. She gives a half-choke, half-sob that turns rapidly into a cough, and wipes her eyes aggressively again on her sleeve. “Oh my God I’m sorry, I didn’t— _hic_ —didn’t see you there!”

“Um,” Mattias says, at the same time the orchestra girl blushes and blurts out, “We can leave the two of you alone.”

The two of them, plus Kristoff, retreat to the wall of the theater bordering the lobby.

“Well,” Kristoff says, sighing in relief. “All things considered, I think that plan went better than expected.”

* * *

Elsa and Anna talk for a long while on the bench, leaving Mattias plenty of time to get to know the two people he’s now become acquainted with. The orchestra girl’s name is Honeymaren—“But you can call me Maren,” she says, “that’s what everyone else does”—and it seems that she and Elsa met during the latter’s audition.

They’re also definitively Not Dating—that’s what Maren tells Kristoff when he asks, at least, stumbling over his words but coherent enough to get his point across—but she’s also blushing enough that Mattias has his doubts.

“I was on accompaniment duty when we met,” Maren says, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Means I was playing piano for the auditions,” she adds at both Mattias and Kristoff’s blank looks. “And—wow, can that girl sing. I told her afterwards that there was no way Oaken wouldn’t cast her, but of course she didn’t believe me.” Maren spreads her hands in a what-can-you-do sort of gesture. “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kristoff agrees, shooting her a suspicious look and settling down on the ground. He leans his back against the wall of the Ahtohallan. “What?” he says, shrugging. “Those two look like they’re going to take a while.”

Maren sits as well, but Mattias opts to remain standing. The three of them pass the time with idle chatter, laughing with each other about nothing in particular, until they spot Elsa and Anna walking back toward them. Anna’s eyes are still red, but she’s smiling now, and Elsa’s gloves are tucked under her arm.

“Everything good?” Mattias asks as they approach. Both of them nod in unison, but seem content not to speak until Kristoff steps over to wrap his arm around Anna—and Maren, following suit, slides her arm back through Elsa’s.

Anna’s eyes narrow immediately.

“So, Elsa,” she says, a grin slowly spreading across her face, “I know I’ve been sorta out of it tonight, but I definitely don’t remember you mentioning a girl.” Elsa blushes crimson and opens her mouth to object, but that only serves to spur Anna on. “Are you going to introduce us?” she asks. “Or do I have to do everything myself?”

* * *

They end up at the van Arendelle mansion for the post-show celebration, at Anna’s insistence. Grand Pabbie is unusually spry for an old man—he all but vaults off a banister to join them in the foyer upon their arrival—or maybe their family flair for the dramatic just rubs off on people who spend enough time with them.

“Welcome!” he cries, spreading his arms out wide. “Oh, it’s been ages since we’ve had guests. What brings you all here to our humble abode?”

Yeah, Mattias thinks, it’s definitely just dramatic flair.

Anna is the first one to reply, as usual. “We’re celebrating Elsa’s opening night,” she announces, tossing her jacket at the coatrack and missing completely. It bounces off the wall and nearly hits Kristoff instead. “Oops.”

“The opening night of the play she’s been sneaking out to rehearse?” Grand Pabbie asks, and Elsa buries her face in her hands. Maren puts a gentle hand on her arm.

“Did _anyone_ here not know?” Elsa groans. She’s started leaning against Maren for support, and Kristoff has to make a frantic hand gesture at Anna to keep her from squealing with delight.

Everyone in the room looks at each other awkwardly, so Mattias is fairly certain he’s the only one who can honestly say, “Um, I didn’t. At least not until Anna told me.”

“And you were going to be there anyway,” she sighs. “It seems that the fates are conspiring against me tonight.”

“Or _for_ you,” Anna says, taking Kristoff by the hand and dragging him down the hall. She gestures for the rest of them to follow. “If we hadn’t found out, none of us would be here right now.” She frowns. “Well, I suppose I would be. And Grand Pabbie, and maybe Kristoff. But Mattias wouldn’t be, and neither would _Honeymaren_ —”

“Don’t call her that, Anna” Elsa says, at the same moment Maren winces and groans, “Please don’t call me that.” Anna just arches an eyebrow at the two of them, and they both blush and turn away.

“Anyway,” Anna says cheerily as they enter the kitchen, “help yourselves to food, we’ve got tons. And drinks, but they’re actually mostly water, because Elsa and Grand Pabbie are boring people who hate fun flavors in their hydration.” She underlines her point by pulling the last bottle of Coke from the fridge, and while Mattias isn’t sure she should be drinking caffeine this late in the evening, he figures it’s not his place to speak up.

Kristoff moves to join Anna and take some of her soda, and Elsa and Maren make for the pantry, leaving Mattias alone by the counter with Grand Pabbie.

“So,” the old man says, “You’re Mattias, eh? Or should I call you Destin?”

“Uh—Mattias is fine,” he says, swallowing. Nobody uses that name for him, not even his professors, so he wonders how Grand Pabbie came to know it. But it would be rude to ask, so he doesn’t.

“I knew your parents, you know,” Grand Pabbie says, winking, as if he heard the question run through Mattias’s head and decided to answer it on a whim. “Agnarr was quite fond of your father. He’d be very pleased if he knew that you’d turned out to be a friend of his daughters.”

“Oh, we’re—” Mattias shakes his head. “I mean, I’m just her R.A.”

“Are you?” Grand Pabbie coughs something unintelligible and leans heavily on his—when did grab a cane? “She talks about you like a friend. Both of them do.” He shakes his head sadly. “And you know, neither of them have very many of those these days.”

“I mean, I suppose—” Mattias sighs. “I do care about Elsa. And I believe we could be friends, given the chance. But I’m in a position of authority over her, and that’s no way to begin a friendship.”

Grand Pabbie just snorts. “What’s that supposed to be?” he says. “Some sort of excuse for why you don’t let yourself get attached to people?”

Mattias blinks, opening his mouth to reply, but he can’t come up with a response. He has a gnawing feeling that Grand Pabbie may actually be right, but he doesn’t need to confront that right now.

“She found a therapist because of you,” Grand Pabbie says when Mattias doesn’t respond. It’s casual, just a statement of fact, but Mattias knows Elsa well enough to know how much weight that carries. “Well, it was partly the Nattura girl, too. But your advice was . . . a contributing factor.”

“Who?”

“Maren,” Grand Pabbie says, like it should be obvious. “The one she’s in love with?”

“Well,” Mattias says, chuckling. “Don’t let Anna hear you say that, or she’ll go completely ballistic.”

“Don’t let me hear what?” Anna says, materializing next to him, and Mattias damn near jumps out of his skin. “Or is this some sort of super-secret meeting where the _adults_ are talking?” She makes air quotes around the word and gives Mattias a significant look.

“Not quite,” Grand Pabbie says, shaking his head. “Ah, but I’m forcing your friend here to do nothing but listen to the ramblings of an old man.” He gestures vaguely down the hall with his cane, increasing Mattias’s certainty that he doesn’t actually need the thing. “By all means, please, take him away.”

“We’re going to play charades in the billiards room,” Anna says, turning in the opposite direction of where Grand Pabbie was pointing. “Come on, I’ll show you the way. It’s kinda easy to get lost in here.”

She starts off down the hall, and Mattias turns to follow, but a low murmur from Grand Pabbie stops him.

“Sometimes,” he says, quietly enough that Mattias is almost convinced he’s imagining it, “there’s a beauty in letting circumstances choose our friends for us.” Mattias turns to look at him, wondering if he has more to say, but Grand Pabbie just shrugs. “What are you looking at?” he says. “Go, enjoy your charades. Don’t mind the musings of an old man past his prime. Go, go!”

Mattias turns and follows Anna down the winding corridor, where he finds that there’s an actual billiards table set up in the billiards room. It’s . . . honestly a little surprising.

“Oh, I play occasionally,” Anna says at his questioning glance. “I mean, I say _play_ —”

“Whatever games she plays with this equipment certainly is not what it was intended for,” Elsa says with a wry smile. She’s in the process of fitting several of the cues into a rack, though one of them has been adorned with what appears to be a spearhead and won’t fit into the notch properly. “We have several suits of armor that used to be in the hallway who can attest to that.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault they decided to stand there,” Anna complains. She walks over to Elsa and takes the spear-cue from her with one hand while opening the closet door with the other. “Here, we can just throw this one in here for now.”

She tosses the cue into the closet and slams it shut before it can fall out. Mattias hears the spearhead _thunk_ against the inside of the door.

“Honestly,” Elsa mutters, her hand still outstretched from where it was holding the spear, “it’s a miracle you haven’t killed Olaf or Bruni by now.”

Anna just sticks her tongue out at her sister before collapsing onto the couch next to Kristoff. Maren is already perched on one of the armrests, watching them bicker with amusement. “All right,” Anna says, producing a handful of paper slips and a wooden bowl from behind the couch. “Anyone here _not_ know how to play charades?”

No one answers, so she sets to dividing them into teams. Mattias settles onto the floor in front of the couch and braces himself for the worst.

Rightly so, as it turns out.

He, Elsa, and Maren are losing by a solid dozen before Anna takes pity on them and allows their team to use whatever props they can find in the billiards room. It gets slightly better after that—after twice the amount of time playing, they’re only down seventeen instead of twenty-four.

“Come on, Elsa,” Anna grins after a particularly difficult round (in which Elsa, for some unknown reason, attempted to clue _fire_ by grabbing and waving around a handheld fan). “Aren’t you, like, an actress or something?”

“Not exactly,” Elsa grumbles, crossing her arms and glaring. She does make sure to place the fan down carefully first, however. “I’m half-decent at singing, that’s all.”

“ _Elsa_ ,” Maren says from the couch, giving her a look, and Elsa sighs.

“Fine,” she says, dropping her arms. “I’m . . . I have a talent for singing. That’s all.”

Maren just rolls her eyes. “I’ll take it for now,” she says, and gestures for Elsa to sit back down next to her. “But you should know that your acting wasn’t too shabby up there, either.”

Mattias nods in agreement, and Kristoff says, “Yeah, Elsa, don’t sell yourself short.” Anna, meanwhile, looks like she’s been personally affronted by Elsa’s words.

“Elsa van Arendelle,” she says sternly, standing up from the couch for good measure, “You did not audition for a musical in secret, get cast in one of the lead roles, sing your heart out on stage, and make me _sob_ like I was eight years old again just to claim that you’re ‘half-decent at singing’.”

“Anna—”

“No, shut it, I’m not done.” She takes a step toward Elsa, who doesn’t back down. “I know I speak for all of us when I say that you were incredible up on stage tonight. You’ve never given yourself the credit you deserve, in the last year especially, but just because the idiots at the ADMA were too stupid to realize your potential doesn’t mean you need to turn it off, too. They’d be fucking _blessed_ to have you, but you know what? They missed that chance. So now we have you instead.”

Elsa stands frozen to the spot, eyes wide, and her only movement is her throat as she swallows slowly. Mattias isn’t even sure if she’s breathing, which he’s sure he’d be more concerned about if he wasn’t having such a hard time processing what Anna has just said. He’s pretty sure . . .

“Okay, wait a minute,” he says. “The ADMA—that was . . .?”

“Her dream college,” Maren says for Elsa, who still isn’t moving. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, and her fists remain clenched at her sides. “But I thought she—” several thoughts seem to run through Maren’s head at once, and then she stops. “Never mind. Elsa, are you all right?”

Luckily, the one question is enough to knock Elsa out of her stupor, though she shudders visibly before nodding. “I’m fine,” she says quietly. “Thank you.” She moves to sit next to Maren, but Anna turns to face the two of them with a frown.

“That didn’t look fine to me.”

“Leave off, Anna,” Maren says sharply, at the same time Kristoff says, “Anna, maybe we shouldn’t—”

Anna manages to pin them both with a heated glare simultaneously, which is both impressive and a little bit terrifying.

“—push her,” Kristoff finishes quietly, averting his gaze. Maren sets her jaw and glares right back.

Mattias, meanwhile, desperately attempts to figure out when it was that Elsa’s mentioned the MDMA before, and why. Was it just after Thanksgiving, maybe? Sometime before it?

“It’s all right, Mare,” Elsa says gently, taking in a deep breath. Maren blinks, confused, and then lowers her gaze.

“You sure?”

A look passes between the two of them, and Maren nods in understanding. “As sure as I’ll ever be,” Elsa says, and turns to Anna.

“I . . .” she takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she says, and suddenly Mattias remembers exactly when and why he knows what the MDMA is.

Instantly, he feels that he ought to be anywhere in the world but here. This conversation should be a private one—it _is_ a private one. But he can’t get up and leave the room without drawing attention to himself, so instead he stays put.

“Really,” Anna says flatly to Elsa. “Do tell.”

“You’re not making this very easy, you know,” Elsa says, and Anna at least has the grace to look chastised. She doesn’t say anything, however—just sets her jaw and waits for Elsa to continue.

“MDMA didn’t reject me,” Elsa says quietly, after a moment. “They didn’t offer me the full scholarship I wanted, but . . . they didn’t reject me.”

Anna looks like she’s just been told that the sky isn’t actually blue. “I’m sorry, what?” she says. “ _What_?”

“MDMA—”

“But you told me they did!” she says, evidently unwilling to let Elsa say it again. “You told me they—” She stops. “What do you mean, they didn’t reject you?”

Maren’s hand tightens around Elsa’s arm, but she looks committed now, and Anna certainly isn’t going to be the one to back down. “They offered me guaranteed enrollment,” Elsa says quietly. “First year or as a transfer, with a quarter of tuition in scholarship money.”

Anna is silent for a long moment. When she finally speaks, her voice quivers. “And you turned them down?”

For a moment—almost imperceptibly—Elsa freezes again, but then she’s speaking once more. “I was scared, all right?” she says, leaning forward in her seat. “I was—I didn’t know if they would—”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Anna growls, and Elsa visibly flinches. Evidently, this was not how she was expecting the conversation to go. “I’m your sister, Elsa, and that means I know you better than anyone alive in the world, including yourself. If you were just _scared_ , you wouldn’t have lied to me. You would have let me convince you to take the opportunity you so _clearly_ deserve, because no one here deserves to get out of this goddamn place as much as you do.” She takes a slow breath to stabilize herself, but Elsa doesn’t try to contradict her. “So what was it?” Anna says. “What was so important, so _goddamn_ important, that you couldn’t possibly risk being convinced to attend the school you’ve been _literally_ dreaming about since you were eight fucking years old?”

Elsa looks away.

“No don’t give me that,” Anna snaps. “I know there was something. There’s always something, and it’s usually something dumb, something stupid, and _usually_ I get the chance to talk you out of it, so why the hell didn’t—”

“It was you, Anna” Elsa says through gritted teeth. She still isn’t looking her sister in the eye, and her knuckles are white in her lap. “I couldn’t—I _can’t_ leave you here alone. Not like this. Not after . . .” She sucks in a shaky breath, and then suddenly she’s leaning forward and sobbing.

The color drains from Anna’s face.

“Oh,” she says softly. “ _Oh._ ” And just as suddenly, she’s at her sister’s side, clasping Elsa’s hands in her own. “Hey,” she says, “hey, no, I’m sorry—God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—Elsa . . .”

They sit there for what feels like an eternity, Anna holding her sister’s hand and pleading while Maren keeps an awkward grip on her arm. Kristoff shifts in his seat as if debating whether to go to Anna, but Mattias hasn’t moved an inch.

Anna, seeing Kristoff’s movement, looks at him like she’s just remembered that he’s there. She blinks once, glancing at Elsa, and mouths, _Maybe you should go_. Kristoff looks at her blankly, but she just shrugs and adds, _Sorry_.

Kristoff slips out the door to the billiards room, and Mattias follows him. The maze of hallways gets them lost several times, but neither of them speaks until they’ve found out of the front entrance.

It’s the fountain splashing merrily at the top of the driveway that first breaks the silence.

“Uh, hey,” Mattias says, remembering as he spots his car that Anna is the one who drove Kristoff here. “Do you need a ride back to your place?”

“I can walk,” Krsitoff says with a shrug, but it’s not a yes or a no, so Mattias waits. Before either of them says anything else, however, the door opens again and Maren steps out.

The three of them cluster around the fountain without a word between them.

“It’s . . . fine, thanks,” Kristoff says after several minutes. When Maren looks up, confused, he says, “Mattias offered me a ride home.”

Maren doesn’t say anything in response, just nods. Mattias almost asks Kristoff if he’s sure, but he another offer isn’t likely to change his answer, and tonight doesn’t seem like the night to press. He nods as well, and stares into the hypnotizing rise and fall of the fountain.

It must be salt water or something, Mattias thinks idly, or else the van Arendelles are even richer than he imagined. He’s never seen a fountain running in the dead of winter before.

Eventually, Maren breaks off from the group, fishing her car keys out of her jacket pocket. She doesn’t utter a word as she climbs into her truck. Mattias takes the opportunity to follow suit, glancing at Kristoff one last time before unlocking his car and getting inside.

Kristoff, for his part, glances up at the mansion, brightly lit against the night sky, and then he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts down the driveway.

Mattias sends two different texts to Anna when he gets home half an hour later, and adds her to his contacts list for good measure.

* * *

**Anna:** kristoff got home fine last night  
**Anna:** thx for letting me know about him

**Mattias:** Good, I’m relieved to hear that.  
**Mattias:** And Elsa?

**Anna:** we’re  
**Anna:** fine i guess  
**Anna:** she’ll prob tell you more when she goes back on monday

It’s not like Anna to _not_ want to talk about something, but Mattias puts his phone away to keep himself from pressing. It’s the day before classes resume, which means he’s back in the dorms now and he’ll see Elsa again soon enough—provided she doesn’t start avoiding him or something like that. He hopes she won’t, and he finds himself dearly wishing that he had her number as well, if only to ask whether or not she’s doing okay.

He leaves a note under her door instead, and spends the rest of the day trying and failing to read ahead for his calculus lectures.

* * *

Monday morning, Mattias wakes up to a note under next to his door on a piece of sheet music, written in Elsa’s familiar cursive. _Breakfast, 9:00?_ it says, and Mattias realizes with a start that it’s already 8:55.

He opens the door to find Elsa standing there, poised to knock. She blinks at him sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Elsa mutters. “I wasn’t sure if you would be awake or not.”

“I wasn’t, until a couple of minutes ago,” Mattias admits. “Do you mind giving me a minute to get ready?”

“Oh, of course,” she replies, shifting awkwardly to one side. “Um, no problem.”

“I’ll be right out,” he promises, and eases the door closed before throwing on the first change of clothes he can find. He snatches his backpack off of the floor, already packed from last night, and exits his room again. Elsa is leaning up against the wall, scrolling mindlessly through her phone.

“You don’t kid around with your times,” she observes dryly, vanishing her phone from her hand. Mattias isn’t quite sure if it’s gone up her sleeve, if she has pockets in that dress, or if she’s just _really_ good at slipping things into her purse. “Dining hall?” Elsa says.

“It’s not as if there’s anywhere else to eat around here,” Mattias points out, and Elsa shrugs. 

“I suppose not,” she says, and leaves it at that. Mattias follows her lead to the dining hall, pulling his coat a little tighter around himself as he walks. The mid-January cold is nothing to sneeze at, though Elsa’s complete disregard for outerwear seems to disagree. By the time they enter the dining hall and find a pair of seats near the wall, Mattias is convinced that he’s going to need to buy a new coat before the month is out.

“I got your note, by the way,” Elsa says as they sit down to eat. “I just wanted to—well, thank you for writing it, I guess. It meant a lot.”

“I’m glad,” Mattias says. The two of them pick at their food for a few minutes without speaking, before he finally says, “So are you and Anna . . . ?”

“We’re fine,” Elsa says, a little stiffly. “Well, she’s still angry with me—understandably so. But not as angry as she was on Saturday night.”

Mattias nods, unsure of what to say.

“She thinks I should have gone,” Elsa says, “and there’s a part of me that thinks she’s right. A part of me that wasn’t there a year ago, or I might have let her convince me, like she said . . .” She sighs. “Can I ask your advice on something?”

“Of course.”

“Does it ever get . . . better, here?” she asks. “As in, do you get used to what it’s like—what _life_ is like here?”

“I’ve only been here a couple years, myself,” Mattias points out, “but I think it does.” Then, because he thinks he knows what she’s really asking, he adds, “But just because it gets better might not mean it’s the best option for everyone. And that’s a question I’m a little bit less qualified to answer.”

Elsa smiles wryly. “That’s exactly what I thought you would say,” she says, still picking at her breakfast. “But it’s nice to hear it out loud, I suppose.”

“ _Exactly_ what you thought I’d say?” Mattias raises an eyebrow. “You must know me better than I know myself, then.”

“Well, not exactly,” Elsa laughs. “But I did expect you to say something along those lines.” She finally gives in and takes a full bite out of her bagel, falling silent while she chews. “I don’t know how much you heard of our argument on Saturday,” she says, “but I think I may have mentioned that MDMA gave me transfer priority as part of their acceptance.”

Mattias recalls something of the sort, but he’s also not entirely sure what that means. “So you’d be able to switch schools for your second year, or something like that?”

“If I wanted to,” Elsa nods. “It’s not a full guarantee, and I would still have to fill out their transfer application, but chances are . . . relatively favorable.”

That makes sense to Mattias, especially given what he’s seen of her work ethic and talent. Elsa doesn’t seem like she’s going to say more if he doesn’t, so he finally asks, “Is it something you want to do?”

“I—of course it is,” Elsa says immediately, but there’s a pained expression on her face. “It’s never quite that easy, though.”

“Because of Anna?” Mattias asks, and she nods.

“Because of Anna.” Her hands drift toward her braid, but Elsa drags them purposefully back into her lap. Her breakfast bagel, barely touched, sits forgotten on the table. “I need to know that she’ll be okay here,” Elsa says. “You saw our home on Saturday—how large it is. How _empty_ it is. Even when Mom and Dad . . .” Inhaling sharply, she looks away and shuts her eyes.

“Take your time,” Mattias says gently.

It takes a few moments before Elsa can speak again. “Even when they were alive,” she says, “it was still too big for all of us. And now that they aren’t there anymore . . .” She sighs, glancing down at her hands. “I guess I never really got over them—I only tricked myself into thinking I had.”

She stops again, and Mattias is tired of not knowing what to say. “No one expects you to get over it quickly,” he points out. “That sort of thing, it’s . . . I don’t know, I can’t even imagine.”

Elsa gives him a tight smile. “I did,” she says quietly. He looks at her, confused, and she adds, “I expected myself to get over it.” She pauses. “It’s a horrible thing to say out loud, I suppose. I just . . . I needed to be strong, both for myself and for Anna. I was all she had left, but I guess she was all I had left, too. And it never really occurred to me that . . . that there might be something outside that, you know?”

Mattias nods. “But it sounds like you’re thinking about that now?”

“Thinking about it,” Elsa sighs. “It seems thinking about things is all I do these days.” Mattias gets the feeling that a recommendation to just start _doing_ things would probably be less than helpful, but she presses on before he can make a fool of himself. “I’ll admit that it can be helpful, though,” she says. “As long as I’m in control of my thoughts, and not the other way around.”

He can’t think of anything to say in response to that, so he just nods again. “Well, whatever you decide to do about all of this,” he says, “you’ll have people supporting you the entire way.”

“And I’m incredibly thankful for that,” Elsa says with a small smile. “Like I said before—it just means so much to me.”

“If there’s anything else I can do . . .”

“But you’ve already done so much,” Elsa says, shaking her head. “You and Anna and Maren—and even Kristoff, though I think he’s more intimidated by me than he’d like to admit. You’ve been there for me for every step of the way, even when I don’t think I deserve it, and I can’t express how thankful I am for that.” She takes a deep breath, biting her lip, and then she says, “I’m proud to call someone like you my friend, Mattias.”

_Sometimes there’s a beauty in letting circumstances choose our friends for us_ , he remembers Grand Pabbie saying, and suddenly he wonders if the old man was referring to Elsa rather than Mattias. But whoever he was talking about, Mattias knows he was right—he isn’t about to let this friendship slip away. So then it’s Mattias’s turn to take the deep breath and the leap, and he does. “I could say the same,” he says to Elsa, and he feels a heavy weight come off his shoulders at the same time he sees Elsa straighten, smiling softly, and throw a different weight off of hers.

* * *

The rest of the school year passes by in a blur. Before Mattias knows it, March is over and the last of the snow is beginning to melt away, though small patches still cling stubbornly to life in the shade between the campus buildings.

Of the five people in their little group, Elsa is the only one remotely saddened by watching winter go.

“She’s always liked the winter the best,” Anna remarks to him one day, as they watch Elsa and Maren attempt to pack snowballs out of the tiny ice patch under the eave of the English department. “Even back when we were little kids.”

Kristoff isn’t with them today, which might be why she’s choosing to reminisce to Mattias instead, but Anna is usually very good about trying to include everyone in her conversations. Maybe a little bit too much, sometimes.

“I can’t imagine why,” Mattias shudders. “Give me a nice autumn breeze over winter, any day.”

“Oh, of course you’d be an autumn person,” Anna grumbles, kicking at an upturned mound of dirt near her feet. “You realize that cold rain is basically just as bad as snow, right?”

“It doesn’t ice up the ground,” Mattias argues. “And even the coldest rain is warmer than snow.”

Anna frowns, deliberating. “I’ll give you that,” she says after a moment, “but that’s why I said _almost_.” She turns her gaze back to Elsa and Maren, who have assembled maybe three snowballs each—though they’re surrounded by the rapidly melting remnants of several other failed attempts. “I will miss her snowman-building skills, I guess,” Anna says with a sigh.

“Miss them?” Mattias says, turning to her. “Has she decided that she’s going to MDMA next year?”

“I mean, technically, she hasn’t _said_ anything yet,” Anna shrugs. “But I know Elsa. And if she makes up her mind in the wrong direction, I’m sure I can just give her a little push.”

“It is her decision to make, Anna,” Mattias points out, but that doesn’t seem to deter her.

“Sure, I guess,” Anna says, “but we all know which decision would make her happier in the end.” She says it with a shrug, without the slightest hint of bitterness, but there’s an undercurrent of worry in her tone.

“And you’re really okay with that?” Mattias asks carefully. He doesn’t want to be the one to persuade Anna either way, but he doesn’t want her to consign herself to needless suffering, either.

Though now that he thinks about it, that also might be a trait that the van Arendelles are especially good at passing on.

“Of course I’m okay with it,” Anna says, looking a little bit affronted. “I just want to see her happy—she deserves that much.”

Mattias nods in agreement. “Of course she does.”

“And besides,” Anna adds, “it’s not like I’ll be left all alone here. I’ve still got Kristoff, and Grand Pabbie, and you. Then maybe in a couple years, I’ll be off to college on my own somewhere else.”

“Well, you still have quite a bit of time before that,” Mattias chuckles. “What is it, two or three years?”

Anna shrugs. “Two or three years isn’t really that long of a time,” she says quietly, looking down at the ground. “But I guess it depends on your point of view.”

Mattias wants to ask what she means by that, but before he can, a snowball whizzes by his head and shatters against the wall behind them. He turns to see Maren winding up for another throw, while Elsa lobs a set of snowballs rapid-fire at her sister.

“Not fair!” Anna shouts, attempting and failing to dodge Elsa’s barrage of shots. She casts about for anything she can throw in retaliation, but comes up empty aside from a handful of grass. “There’s not even enough snow for us to fight back!”

“Should have thought about that before you decided to stand there, huh?” Maren says, and behind her, Elsa laughs. Mattias raises his arm to block another incoming snowball, which shatters against his arm, and Anna makes a dash for the nearest pile of sludge.

Anna’s snowballs are probably made up of more mud than actual snow, but her aim is awful enough that Elsa doesn’t even get hit, and Maren doesn’t seem to mind at all. Mattias stands on the sidelines, occasionally batting a stray snow-mud-projectile out of the air if it gets too close, and laughs along with them until they’re too out of breath to run anymore.

The future, he thinks, can wait. For now, they’re not going anywhere.

* * *

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> So there's going to be an epilogue/sequel/thing to this, but it's gotten a little . . . out of hand length-wise, which means I'm still editing it. But if you enjoyed this piece, keep an eye out!
> 
> EDIT: And the epilogue is up! Hope everyone enjoys!


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